


Hunters' Secrets

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azazel (Supernatural)'s Special Children, Dean 2.0, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Not the Real Dean Winchester, Sexy Times, Shapeshifter Dean Winchester, sam and dean are not brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-04-06 05:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19056487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Sam Wesson is still smarting from the time he threw himself at Dean Winchester and was soundly rejected. Years later, when they run into each other at a bar, Dean inexplicably makes an about-face and propositions Sam.  Their decision to work together on a hunt could be deadly as each hunter has a deep, dark secret that he cannot afford to allow the other to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/magic_pix/47981450281/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 

** PROLOGUE **

“Stop the damned waterworks. You’re Dean Winchester, the most bad-ass, mother-fucking hunter ever born. Say it!”

“I’m Dean Winchester, the most bad-ass, mother-fucking hunter ever born,” he answered, wiping angrily at his tears. “Are you… sure you want this?”

The wounded hunter’s eyes grew steely. “Yes. Hunter’s funeral, too, you son-of-a-bitch. And what are you gonna do?”

“Find the yellow-eyed demon. Find a way to kill it. Not exorcise but kill it.”

“What else?” the fatally wounded hunter demanded. 

“Find the demon’s blood-kids. Kill them if they’re dangerous.” He saw his friend’s eyes narrow and he swallowed, then gave a nod. “If even one goes rogue, they’re all toast,” he said, trying to keep his emotions under control.

“We can’t risk them doing that demon’s work. That thing’s plans are big, I’m sure of it. Even if it costs some innocent lives, you have to take them out.” The hunter coughed hard, blood spewing from his lips. He placed his shaking hand on the younger hunter’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid, _Dean_. Better than me.”

“No, I’m not,” he protested.

“Man up. Time for you to be the hero now. Got it?” the dying man rasped, his hand sliding from _Dean’s_ shoulder as he gave him one last final smirk. “Now shift.”

The young shifter-hunter obeyed but couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks. He might now be Dean Winchester, but his best friend, a man he’d idolized like no other, was dead. “I’ll be the best bad-ass, mother-fucking hunter you’ve ever seen. I swear it. I’ll make you proud.”

** CHAPTER 1 **

 

Dean had done his research. He’d learned that Sam Wesson had been at Max Miller’s place when Max supposedly committed suicide. According to the police report, after losing his father and an uncle, Max Miller suffered a psychotic break. He’d almost killed his stepmother, but Wesson had intervened. In loss and frustration, Max had turned the gun on himself. 

The medical examiner had noted a few minor concerns about the suicide theory, and he wasn’t the only one with concerns. Things just didn’t add up. Then there was Gallagher’s brother. Andy Gallagher’s brother had died under suspicious circumstances and Sam Wesson had been there at the time of Andy’s brother’s death, too. That couldn’t be a coincidence, and that placed Sam Wesson directly in Dean’s crosshairs. 

There were other interesting facts. Max’s mother, Andy’s adopted mother, and Sam’s mother had each suffered the same fate. All had died in fires, with wild reports of the mothers ending up on the ceiling while they burned alive. No doubt about it - all three of the young men were the demon’s blood kids. He didn’t think the fact that two of the mothers had died in the nursery before the kids were even toddlers, and that Sam’s had died when he was much older, made a real difference. 

For the time being, Dean decided to steer clear of Andy. He’d tailed him for a solid couple weeks, but the guy truly liked his bong and seemed harmless. He knew each of the blood kids had at least one supernatural power. He’d learned that Andy had the power to force anyone to do what he asked of them. With that kind of power, the kid could have had the world by the short hairs. Instead of making a grab for all the money and power a person could want, he seemed happy living out of his van, reading brainy books, having sex with the twins, and smoking pot.

All this brought him back to Sam. What was his power, or powers? He was a hunter, so he already was one-up on most of the other demon-blood kids when it came to fighting skills. Dean would have to tread carefully with him. Very carefully. One good thing was that at least Sam Wesson and Dean Winchester, the real Dean Winchester, had already crossed paths once in this life. That meant that if Dean appeared while Sam was working the shtriga job, it would come as no surprise to Sam. 

*

In the three weeks Sam had been in the small town, there had been three more deaths. Something was sucking the life out of young children, then tossing their bodies aside like dried husks. No matter what he tried, he got nowhere. Anger simmered inside him as he felt impotent against the creature taking the children.

Drumming his fingers on the bar top, he mentally reviewed the list of things he’d learned so far. The exercise might reveal a new angle that he hadn’t considered before. A sharp pain suddenly blossomed in his head, blotting out his precise and analytical thoughts. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pulling in a few deep breaths, hoping the sensation of having his head split apart would stop soon. His hand balled around the napkin he’d freed from under his drink. If his nose bled, he’d need it. 

Forever was over in a minute or two, and the white-hot spots behind his eyes receded, leaving only the memory of pain. He knocked back his drink and ordered another, blinking a few times. 

“Migraines are bad news in our line of work. Had a doc check that out?” Dean said as he settled onto the bar stool beside Sam. He lifted a hand to the bartender. “Whiskey. Neat. Double. And his next one’s on me.” He gave Sam a light touch on his shoulder. “Good to see you again. You’ve grown since last time.”

Sam did a double take. “Dean Winchester?” He gave a slight smile and shook his head. “More height jokes, why am I not surprised.” What did surprise him was the fact that the hunter had plopped himself down next to him and offered to pay for his drink. The last time they’d been at the same bar together, Sam had been pretty drunk. He’d hit on Dean, more than once. The ‘no’ he’d gotten the third time around had been very firm, and well deserved. 

“Maybe it’s the thin air up there that’s giving you the migraine. Course alcohol and migraines are not usually a good mix, either. You here on business?” He set a couple twenties on the bar. “Keep ‘em coming,” he told the bartender and refocused on Sam. “And you know you could use a haircut, right?”

Only just preventing himself from touching his hair, Sam gave the man a look. He tapped his glass with his finger, watching him closely. “Probably the same business you’re on,” he guessed. It might be one-sided, but Sam felt a bit uneasy. It wasn’t hard to guess at the reason for the awkwardness. “Ah…” Sam took a breath. “About what happened in Rockford. I just, I’m sorry. I was out of line,” he said, needing to get that out of the way.

“No, you were just drunk off your ass. You’re sober and a with few more years under your belt now,” Dean gave a shrug and a smirk, “so I might be open to it.” He cocked an eyebrow at Sam and tossed back the double, then set the empty glass aside. “And yeah, we’re probably here for the same job. I wondered if the FBI guy who has been around asking questions was a fellow hunter, or if I needed to disappear. You want me gone?” he said.

“No.” He wasn’t gonna think about what Dean had just said, about being open to it. The hunter was just being kind and playing it off. That was fine by Sam, he didn’t need to talk about it anymore. “I haven’t been having much luck with this thing. Shtriga,” he said a little softer. “It’s taking kids at an accelerated rate.” He gave Dean the figures. “And those are just the ones I know of.” 

“These things are bastards to take down. I nailed one a few years back. That bastard was sucking the kids just enough to put them in a hospital where he was their doctor and could feed on them at his leisure.” Dean scratched at the light stubble on his chin. “You had any luck figuring out who it is? They usually work outwards from a central location.”

Sam shook his head ‘no.’ “I’ve got the locations of the victims mapped out, and other than they’re locals and most recent are all foster kids, I’m not seeing a pattern.” He frowned. “Wait, so the shtriga was a doctor preying on his own patients. There’s a big orphanage just outside of town. I mean big, for a town of this size. Over the years, an unusual number of kids have been orphaned in surrounding areas. I tried contacting the place to see if anyone has tried to come onto their grounds, or if they’ve had any problems, and they were really secretive. You don’t think…”

“That someone there is the witch?” Dean said and gave a nod. “It would be a good cover. Could be that they’re taking out the parents, making the kids vulnerable, making them targets for the shtriga.”

“The size of the orphanage struck me as odd, but until you said that hospital thing, I wasn’t thinking along the lines of someone killing the parents to get the kids in there. But then what? Maybe in their grief they taste better? But they aren’t being killed there. They’re being killed in their foster homes.” Sam picked his glass up and knocked back half, giving a low hiss at the burn. “I don’t know whether to hope we’re right or wrong, here.”

“Foster kids probably aren’t as like to scream out to foster mommy and daddy?” Dean suggested. “Well, if we’re right, we’ve got a place to start and can nail the son of a bitch,” Dean said. “Then other kids won’t have to live through losing their parents and being made a target of the monster. If we’re wrong… odds are it’s still out there doing the exact same thing, just from a distance. The faster we find it, the better,” he said. “Any place around here that’s got decent burgers? I’m starved.” He suddenly gave a huff of laughter. “Wait, I forgot, I’m talking to the salad king. Never mind. I don’t do tofu burgers.”

Sam had just opened his mouth to tell him there was a pretty good joint around the corner when Dean started to mock Sam’s food choices. “Dude, you got all that from seeing me eat _one_ salad?” He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help wondering how Dean even remembered that small detail, when Sam couldn’t remember what he ate a few days ago. “Fine, eat bar food. Double cholesterol, extra on the heart attack, and they use real butter to fry up your burger _and the buns_ ,” he said, with a huff. 

Dean held up his fingers in a ‘V’. “Two salads. And when I told you it would wither your nethers, you made a crack about eating a salad every day.” He raised both hands. “So, don’t get testy on me. You’re the one who _told_ me you’re the salad king. Or at least a prince. Though if you can point me to a decent non-tofu burger, I’ll buy you dinner from there.”

Sam made a face. “That sounds nothing like me. You’re… you’re making it up.” That was the problem with being drunk, people could ascribe all sorts of things to you and you couldn’t deny them with any certainty. “And I do know a place. It’s got great burgers, served _with_ salad.” He smirked.

Pushing himself to his feet, Sam gave a jerk with his head. “Come on, it’s just around the corner. You won’t even have to move your car.” As they headed outside, he asked. “Where you staying? I’m right across the street.” He nodded toward the motel. “Gotta love the view.” The motel’s red heart symbol flashed brightly in front of all the windows.

Dean chuckled at the flashing heart. “Yeah, real winner that. I haven’t checked into a motel yet. Was poking around a bit before hunting for a place and picked up wind of a long-haired hippy-type FBI agent talking to people, and I got directed to the bar. Imagine my surprise to see you were that hippy.” 

Sam gave him a quelling look, that did absolutely nothing. “I don’t remember you being this…” he waved his hand, “hyper.” It wasn’t the right word, but he couldn’t be bothered to search for the right one. “And for your information, no one’s ever questioned my FBI credentials, so I don’t think anyone but you called me a hippy.”

“I’m not on the clock at the moment,” Dean said with a smirk. “And seriously, I did hear the cops talking about how the FBI have grown slack in their rules and regulations. I told them it was because women had the right to have long hair, so now guys did, too. That old guy, Sampson, said it made you look like a long-haired hippy freak.” Dean laughed and shrugged as he opened the door to the cafe. “But no, no one was questioning your credentials.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Mmmm, french fries.”

Staring at Dean, Sam had no idea what to make of him. He didn’t know him well enough to know when he was making shit up and when he wasn’t, and he had a feeling that he was just spewing stuff. But then again, he couldn’t be sure. “Alright, whatever,” he conceded, as they found a booth near the window.

Seeing the special of the night, Sam gave an eyeroll. “You’re seriously thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“It has a salad with it,” Dean tossed back at him, licking his lips as he stared at the special. “I haven’t eaten all day except for a microwave burrito. Hell, yeah, I’m thinking about it. Which healthy dinner are you going to order? The tofurkey burger? Mmm, makes my mouth just water thinking about it. Makes my bile rise, too.” He gave a laugh. “Dude, have you gotten a broomstick up your butt since last time I saw you? If I knew you were gonna be such a killjoy…” He gave his head a shake.

“I think you started it at the bar, with your double salad talk,” Sam answered, letting his gaze move over the menu. When the waitress came to take their orders, he looked up. “Double cheeseburger, curly fries, and _no salad_. Water to drink.” He managed not to smile.

“I’ll take the special, onion rings instead of fries, extra grilled onions on the burger, and make the pie… apple. I’ll skip the salad, too. Give me the sweet tea.” He held the menu out for the waitress to take and gave her a flirty smile before turning his attention back to Sam. “I think it started when you were flat-out shocked to see Dean Winchester sitting down beside you. You’re not sure what to make of me.”

“Can’t say I expected that,” Sam admitted, though he didn’t want to go back to thinking about their last meeting. “But I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” He raised his brows and gave the other hunter a steady look. He was getting the distinct feeling that the man was putting effort into trying to keep him off balance or guessing, and he had no idea why.

The waitress filled their glasses from nearby pitchers and set them down on the table before walking away.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m just trying to enjoy the moment.” He refocused on Sam and picked up a straw, stripping the paper from it and dropping the straw into his drink. “I had, let’s call it a close call, a little while back and I appreciate the good times a little more than maybe I did. Fun? You know fun? Well, I’m trying to have some. Look, sorry. Obviously, you’re more the down to business, screw having a little fun in life type.”

Sam gave a laugh and shook his head. “Maybe I am a little, you know, wary. Already made a fool of myself ‘having fun’ the last time we met.” That was about all the admission the guy was getting. “So, what happened? Your close call?”

“Ah, I might have been a bit pissy with you last time,” Dean admitted. “Sorry. There were reasons and it had nothing to do with you hitting on me. Just forget that last time, okay?” He gave Sam a smile. “Really. As for my close call.” Dean sobered thinking back to the night everything changed for him. Yeah, the bastard had definitely been a fast mother, and lucky. Just too damned lucky. “I was tracking someone who was possessed. The demon was a bit more kick-ass than expected. I exorcised it, but not before it skewered me but good.” He gave a nod, the memory haunting his eyes. “I was working with someone on that job. If not for him, I wouldn’t be here right now. So it put me in a, ah, different state of mind about how I was going to live my life. You ever have anything like that, that kinda set you back on your heels and made you re-evaluate?” He took a sip of the tea and forced memories of that night away.

“Yeah,” Sam looked down for a long moment, then back up. “Now that you mention it, I guess I had the opposite reaction. You’re right, I am more serious business.” He hadn’t even realized the truth until now, but ever since he’d started coming into these unexplained powers and suffering from migraines, he’d become a lot more careful and measured in his dealings with those around him.

“You almost die? And you got _more_ serious?” Dean shook his head and gave a low, raspy laugh. “That’s fucked up. Life’s too short to be serious _all_ the time. Guess I’ll have to make sure you get a little fun squeezed in, in between work.” He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms out, cracking his knuckles. “It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.”

Sam chuckled, and leaned back, surprised by how fast their food arrived. A part of him wanted to confide in Dean, if only to have one person to talk to. But he wasn’t an idiot. Beneath the guy’s fun-loving exterior was one helluva seasoned hunter with a reputation to boot. No way Sam wanted to find himself on the hunted-end of a hunt by that guy, and if the guy knew his secret, it was a real probability. 

He put some condiments on his food, then took a drink. Watching Dean take his first bite, he raised a brow. “Well?”

“Oh my God!” Dean said around a mouthful. “Best,” he said giving an enthusiastic nod and taking another big bite, groaning with appreciation. After swallowing, he grinned. “I’ve been looking for the perfect cheeseburger. I may have just found it.”

“Great, maybe I get a few points back on my sense of taste.” Grinning, Sam took a bite of his own burger. It was as good as the first night in town, and the couple times after that. “Have to admit, I don’t usually go to the same place several times, but this is worth coming back for. Their chicken club is delicious, too.” He sat back and reached for his drink, laughing at the way the guy was devouring his food.

“I’ll stop harassing you about daily salads and tofu burgers,” Dean said, one side of his mouth pulling into a smirk. “Unless you do daily salads and tofu burgers. How are their shakes here? I might have to get one to go if they’re half as good as the burgers.” Dean set his burger down and wiped his hands clean, then dug into the inner pocket of his coat. He pulled out a small notebook. “This is what I’ve got so far on the sitch here, along with some copied notes from my journal.” He picked the burger back up and took another bite.

Sam wiped his hand and pulled the notebook over, scanning it as he spoke. “Haven’t tried the shakes, but their lattes are great. Especially with cinnamon sprinkles and just a touch of cream,” he added with a straight face, repressing a smile. “Your info matches a lot of what I found, too. This name, I haven’t seen. A witness?”

“There you go, undermining yourself by drinking froo-froo drinks,” Dean said, pointing a finger at him. He glanced over at his notes and gave a nod and half shrug. “If you want to call a five-year-old a witness, yeah. A friend of the last kid who died. She snuck away from her new foster parents to talk with me. She said her friend had seen the monster at least once before she died, and that it was the Emperor from Star Wars. She wanted to know if I was a Jedi and to show her my light saber.” He cocked an eyebrow at Sam, giving a soft chuckle. “Course, the scary thing is, they _do_ look like Palpatine with the robes and their skeletal appearance and everything.”

“Oh, Jeez. Poor kid.” Sam cocked his head to the side. “The most recent have been foster kids. She’s a potential target.” He glanced down at the address scrawled under her name. “You think it’s worth staking the place out?” 

“If we don’t have any other, more tangible, leads, staking her place out is as good a place to start tonight as any. I was toying with doing just that. You got any better leads we can follow up?” Dean asked. He knew it could be a wild goose chase, but if that’s all they had, then he was willing to sleep in the car to try to protect the kid.

“Just the orphanage itself. Like I said, they were really cagey on the phone. It might make sense to go in, uninvited, and take a look around. One of us could play decoy, go in there asking questions and looking at files, to keep them busy. Or, we could break in tonight.” Sam suggested. 

Dean contemplated the options. “We don’t know who it is, and they can only be killed when feeding.” He glanced around and dropped his voice lower. “So even if we figure out who it is, doesn’t do us any good unless it’s attacking someone.” He frowned a moment. “The one I went after was cyclic in feeding, years in between with nothing obvious, at least. But that orphanage has been there a while, right?”

Sam nodded. “Decades.”

Dean sucked in a breath. “I just had a really ice-in-the-veins thought. Kids get adopted out of that place, I’m guessing. So, if a kid goes ‘missing,’ all they gotta say is the kid was adopted. Only what if the kid wasn’t adopted? What if the kid was eaten instead? We only know about the fosters, because there’s someone to report them missing.”

Reaching for his messenger bag, Sam pulled his laptop out and set it on the table next to him. “I’ll take a crack at breaking into their records. I hadn’t even considered we had missing kids. Let’s see what their rate of adoption is. If it seems really high, it could mean something.” Something dark. So dark, he’d toss it aside as a crazy notion, if he weren’t in the hunting business. “Their grounds are huge, even have an old cemetery. There’s plenty of places to hide bodies.”

“Don’t let your food get cold,” Dean said. “But I do think before we go checking the place out uninvited, we better have a better idea of exactly what we’re going up against. Do we have more than one shtriga? Who’s helping it and why? Why haven’t the cops figured out the number of parents dying and leaving their orphaned kids behind is above the norm? As much as I rag on them, cops aren’t usually idiots. Course shtrigas are witches. Who’s to say they aren’t doing a little dark magic on the side to stop that line of thought, ya know?” Dean glanced around, wondering how many in the town could be eyes and ears for the monster. “And why do I suddenly feel like we might be next on the dinner menu?” he muttered.

“I’ve got a pile of research on shtrigas. They’re usually loners,” Sam said, typing away on the keyboard as he navigated to the orphanage’s website and determined how to break into their intranet. “I did find a few instances where they’ve used the fortunes they’ve gathered over the centuries to bribe people into helping or covering up their secrets. Nothing like that this century though.” Rubbing his chin, he did some mental calculations, then started to type again.

“Just remember, there are occasional exceptions to any rule of averages. Vampires who have gone vegetarian. Werewolves who have created a community to keep themselves secure during the change. Hell, humans who are cannibals.” Dean took the last bite of his burger and began polishing off what was left of his onion rings. “So you a whiz-kid on computers?”

“I do alright,” Sam said with a grin. “You’re not really expecting this shtriga to turn out to be a good guy, are you?” He wasn’t sure where Dean was going with that.

Dean nearly choked on the onion ring he was starting to swallow. “No!” He coughed several times and took a drink of iced tea. “You said they’re usually loners. I agree. I’m just saying this feels like more than one monster is involved. Maybe shtriga, maybe of the human variety. That’s all.”

“Good, ‘cause I was wondering if you’d started to grow soft.” Still, from the things he’d heard about Winchester, he’d thought the guy was hard core. It was good to see that unlike many hunters, he did go below the surface a little and acknowledge that not every supernatural being was evil. “Here we go.” Turning the laptop around so they both could see the screen, he pointed. “Look how many kids have been adopted out over the last three years. And here,” he switched tabs, “the stats for a couple of similar orphanages.”

Dean stared at the numbers and felt anger begin to simmer inside him. “Dammit. I hate it when I’m right, at least about shit like this. If the kids are being adopted, there should be state records of adoptive parents and adopted kids. If the kids are simply, you know, going poof, there might be records of them getting adopted at the orphanage but it probably wouldn’t be mirrored in the state records.” Dean bit his lower lip for a moment. “Because if it was, they’d have to have fake parent records and with adoption rates like this, if that showed up at state level, I think someone would take notice, contribute funding and grants, propose making their adoption strategies the way to go in all orphanages. What do you think?”

“I can google some of the supposed adoptive parents. See if they’re real. Check their Facebooks, you know?” Sam said as he started to work. 

“What’s a Facebook?” Dean asked. “Some sort of photography site?”

“Seriously?” Sam gave him a look and kept working. 

Dean gave him a blank look. “Never heard of it. Seriously. Course if it’s a website with bunches of pictures of kids, that’s not _really_ the sort of websites I normally visit.”

“Yeah, I didn’t take you for a Chester the Molester type.” Sam snickered. “Dude, Facebook is a social networking website where people post TMI about themselves. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it.” He pulled up a couple Facebooks and showed Dean, then went back to work on the list. “I heard Garth is going to set one up for the hunting community. It’ll look like any other social networking site, and be secured.” He gave a shrug.

Dean glanced over the sites Sam brought up and then shook his head. “Secure my ass. All it would take is one mistake for the government to lay hands on it and we’d all be arrested and locked up. Count me out. Though having all the hunting community at hand for information on something obscure… well, lord knows Bobby could use the break. So, do you have a,” he picked up his fork and cut into his pie, “Facebook page that gives away TMI?”

“Yeah, nude pics and everything, but you’ve got to be a mutual to get access.” Sam glanced at Dean, then smirked. 

“A mutual what?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow at Sam. “I so didn’t figure you as a public show-off.”

“Dude, I’m kidding. But a mutual is someone who has you friended back. So, you can see each others’ stuff, if one of you is on ‘private.’ I do have a fake one, so that I can search and friend people, if I need to find stuff out.” 

“Too bad,” Dean murmured then gave Sam a smile. “You’ll have to help me set one up and show me the ins and outs of it.”

A few minutes later Sam was frowning. “It’ll take a while to go through the whole list but several of the parents have no internet footprint, at all. I’d call that suspicious. Some of these people on the list have phone numbers listed, but those come up blank on searches. If they go anywhere, it could be back to the shtriga. I mean if it’s sneaky enough, he or she could pull a Bobby with the-- hold up, some of these numbers are dupes!”

“Sure wish the news was better,” Dean said, but wasn’t surprised. “So, the next step is figuring out who our monsters are unless you need more convincing.”

“No, it’s clearly an inside job at the orphanage, but an operation like this could have players on the inside and out. Let’s make sure the kid you talked about is okay tonight, and then hit the orphanage tomorrow in person. See what we can find on the grounds,” Sam answered, reaching for his burger, and taking a bite out of it. “You’re dying to have my fries aren’t you?” He could just tell. “Have at ‘em,” he sighed, shaking his head.

* * * 

Dean took his duffle to Sam’s motel room since Sam had a double and said he didn’t mind, though he looked surprised that Dean accepted his offer. He’d wanted to be close to Sam, to watch him, and it had been even easier than he’d expected. 

Dean pulled out his collection of consecrated wrought iron rounds and offered Sam some for his .45, while loading a 9mm clip for his own gun. They ran through contingencies such as who would go left or right, front or back, and stories for cops or foster parents. A game of rock-paper-scissors decided that they’d take Dean’s car. Dean made a coffee and snack run, then picked Sam up and they headed to the kid’s address to stand guard for the night.

Looking out the window, staring at the upstairs bedrooms, Sam took a sip of his coffee. “A shtriga attacked me when I was about seven,” he offered. “Gave me nightmares for years.” 

“Dad used me for bait for one when I was ten,” Dean said, his face neutral. “The SOB got away and disappeared. The one I went up against a few years back? Yeah, it was that same one. Were you being used as bait or just have sucky luck?” he asked as he pulled out a candy bar and opened it.

Sam turned bodily to look at Dean. “My mom would never use me as bait! Your dad, really?” Realizing he was illogically getting angry over an incident that happened a long time ago, and to someone who didn’t seem to mind, Sam clamped down on his outrage. 

Dean gave a nod. “My dad promised me he wouldn’t let it get me. And it was either me or another kid. I couldn’t let the other kid do it. I already knew about nightmare things. She didn’t. Not really. ...And I’d do anything to make my dad proud of me. So, your mom was a hunter?” he asked. If Sam had told him before, he didn’t recall.

“Yeah, she was,” Sam answered, trying to blink away the things he didn’t like to think about, like her death. His dad, he couldn’t remember. “Same story you hear everywhere. Dad died in a freaky way, and mom…” 

Just then, a sharp pain had Sam putting his hand over his eyes as if trying to prevent something from drilling holes into them. He caught flashes of a scene, and it was clearly something going down in the house. When the pain lost its grip on his brain, he let out a breath and reached for the handle. “We gotta get inside. Now!”

When Sam started acting like he was getting nailed with a doozy of a migraine, Dean rested a hand on his shoulder. If the guy was going to pass out, he didn’t want him collapsing and hitting his head on the dash. Dean released him when Sam seemed to be getting himself back under control. He hesitated a moment when Sam insisted they get inside the house. His eyes narrowed and he wanted to demand an explanation but if the guy was right, a kid’s life was in danger. So he kept his mouth shut and followed after Sam, but forced him to slow down and stick to the shadows. “We’ve got to keep the element of surprise if we can,” he hissed at Sam.

Despite the slowly dulling pain, Sam was able to give a nod of his head and followed Dean’s lead. “I don’t think they’re upstairs. You go in the front, I’ll go in the back,” he said, looking at Dean for confirmation. “Be careful.”

Slipping past, Sam made his way to the back of the house and looked for the best entrance. Dropping down on his knees, he quickly picked the lock because breaking a window would alert the shtriga.

Dean walked up to the front door, picking up a rock from the flowerbed on his way there. He gave a slight shake of his head as he slid the plate on the bottom of the fake rock aside and plucked out the key. A basalt looking rock sitting in with river rocks wasn’t obvious, not at all. He set the “hide-a-key” fake rock down and slipped the key into the deadbolt. After opening it, he quietly opened the lock on the doorknob then pulled out his gun as he slowly turned the doorknob, easing the front door open.

Dean scanned the darkened living room. Sam said it wasn’t upstairs, but that’s where the bedrooms were, so that didn’t make a lick of sense. He closed the door, turned the lock on the knob, and moved quietly into the house.

Creeping inside, Sam made his way down the hall. He’d drawn his gun because he knew that thing was already here. His premonitions didn’t lie. Pushing a door open slowly, he walked in, saw the room was empty, and kept going. 

After checking the bathroom, he moved on through the house, then saw Dean and lowered his gun. Giving a shake of his head to indicate everything behind him was clear, he nodded towards the light seeping out from underneath what looked like swinging doors, maybe to the kitchen.

Dean nodded back and moved to the doors. He carefully cracked one open, looking in. A night light was on by the counter, spilling shadows into the room. He caught a slight whiff of reeking death and finally spotted the thing looking out the window, its shape blending in with the curtains. He carefully shut the door and pulled Sam back.

“I’m the bait. I walk in, let it grab me. Don’t shoot until it’s feeding,” Dean whispered, meeting Sam’s gaze. Maybe it was stupid trusting Sam, but he didn’t think so. His gut told him Sam was a decent guy and he was betting his life on his gut; his gut had saved him more times than he could count.

After slipping his 9mm in his belt in the small of his back, Dean walked into the kitchen and straight to the fridge. “Beer, beer, beer, where’s that beer you said was here,” he murmured as he looked over the inside of the fridge. 

“Shit!” Sam cursed as Dean moved to play the bait before he could protest. He didn’t like the idea, but he’d also never heard of a shtriga that was successfully hunted except in the act of feeding. He waited outside the door, watching from the crack.

Dean pulled out a beer and popped the can open before even shutting the fridge door. He took a long drink, then shut the fridge, turning toward the window. “What the hell?” he asked, walking curiously toward the dark shape, making certain he wasn’t blocking Sam’s shot. He cautiously reached a hand out toward the cloak-draped figure.

It moved faster than the eye could follow, knocking Dean’s hand aside and grabbing him by the throat. Dropping the beer, Dean gripped its bony arm with both hands, but it seemed unconcerned, forcing Dean’s mouth open and beginning to draw out Dean’s life force.

Sam moved through the doors and took aim, very aware that the thing was sapping Dean’s life. But Dean was moving, struggling, so Sam was forced to take his time lining up the shot. Just as he started to squeeze the trigger, someone barreled into the kitchen. The swinging door struck Sam in the back and his gun went off, completely missing its mark.

Ignoring the man shouting at all of them to get out of his house, Sam aligned his gun again.

The creature turned and saw Sam readying to take another shot. Its eyes narrowed, sliding from Sam back to Dean. With a hiss, it released Dean and dove right through the window, shattering the glass.

“Dammit!” Dean wheezed. He charged the shouting man and slammed the guy up against the wall. “Shut the hell up! We were here trying to save your life you idiot. Get yourself, your wife, and the kid out of town for a couple days! You’ve been targeted by a serial killer. You got that, buddy?”

Sam looked out the broken window but all he saw was a quick moving shadow, then nothing. “Dammit.” He blew out a breath and turned around. Walking to the pair, he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to calm the hunter. 

“It’s like he said, sir, that man who just jumped out the window was here to harm your family. We’ve been tailing him, and when we saw him enter, we followed him inside,” Sam calmly explained.

The man looked at them. “If that’s true, you won’t have any problems with me calling the police.”

“Call whoever you like,” Sam said, “just get out of the house and leave for a while. This guy is tenacious and goes back after missed kills. “You ready?” he asked Dean, nodding toward the door.

Dean glared at the guy and took a deep breath. He pulled out a card and handed it to the guy. “Look, I get it. But there was no way to warn you, and we couldn’t wear our badges without tipping the killer off as to who we were,” he said, pulling out his FBI badge and flashing it to the guy. “Sorry for the spilled beer. We’ll check back, but be gone as fast as you can, like, within 30 minutes. Get at least an hour or two away from here. Stay gone five days. The killer will either be handled or on the run again by then.” Dean looked at Sam and gave a nod. He really didn’t want the cops here drawing attention if they could avoid it. He was still pissed though, tired, and his jaw ached and felt bruised.

The man looked at the card, the badge, and then looked them over again. But when he saw they were leaving, he gave a nod. “Crazy shits been happening around here. People dying. Thank you, for watching out for us,” he said, already heading for the stairs to wake his family.

Giving a nod, Sam walked out the front door with Dean. “You alright?” he said, searching the hunter’s face. “It could have been worse. I could have shot you.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing. But I either need some fresh coffee or ten hours of sleep. That thing packs a punch when it’s sucking the life out of you. And if you _had_ shot me, it’d be the last time I’d ever partner up with you. So, you wanna tell me why we went barging into the house? How you knew what you knew?” Dean glanced at him, giving him a ‘don’t even try to bullshit me’ look, then opened the car door and slid behind the wheel.

“Shit.” Sam cursed softly, before getting into the passenger side. “Gut feeling.” 

“Try again,” Dean said, turning to look at him. 

Sam ran a hand over his face, then focused on Dean. “Off the record, not to be shared with anyone. Not even Bobby,” he said, knowing how close Dean was to the man. He watched Dean, waiting for his agreement.

Dean stared at him a minute, considering the implications. He gave a sniff and a nod. “All right. Off the record. I won’t tell anyone, including Bobby.”

Another tense moment passed before Sam spoke. His voice was soft, pained, and almost ashamed. “I get these… premonitions. Flashes of things about to happen. I saw it inside the house and just trusted what I saw,” he said. His gaze dropped to Dean’s hands; he was prepared for the hunter if the man decided to draw a gun on him. “So, you still want to work the case with me?” A muscle throbbing in his jaw. Best case scenario, he’d get a disgusted ‘no.’

Studying Sam, Dean noticed the way Sam tensed. “That’s it? You have a little psychic mojo?” Dean blew out a breath, turned back to the steering wheel, and started the car. “So long as your premonitions are premonitions, and you’re not causing the events, we’re cool. They what give you your headaches? You always have ‘em?” he asked as he shifted the car into gear. 

Sam released his breath. He wasn’t an idiot and didn’t relax completely, but he was pretty good at reading people, and Dean really didn’t seem too bothered by the weirdness factor. “Yeah, and no. They started about six months back. Not real cool when they hit while I’m driving,” he admitted. “Luckily, it doesn’t happen that often.” He paused a beat. “If I was causing the shit I see, I’d take myself out. Just so we’re clear.”

“Good to know. And intention is everything. Sounds like you’re not trying to make it happen, it just does, and that’s gotta suck and put your freak factor on alert. I just want one promise. Any new mojo starts kicking in, you tell me. I don’t like surprises. Hiding shit from me make me suspicious. Deal?” Dean asked, glancing over and holding out his hand in offer of a handshake.

“Until we’re finished here?” Sam asked. That was fair, but he couldn’t see himself reporting to anyone after they were done. So he shook Dean’s hand. God, he hoped to hell that this premonition thing was just some sort of phase. It’s what he’d been telling himself for months. 

“Scares the shit out of you, doesn’t it?” Dean asked, stopping at a red light. He gave a yawn and was glad the motel wasn’t far ahead. He glanced over at Sam.

Sam let out a sigh, and nodded, but looked out the window. Course he was scared. Who wouldn’t be? 

“Look,” Dean said, stepping on the gas when the light changed, “I know we don’t know each other from jack, but if you need a sounding board about it, I’ll keep my yap shut to anyone else. If this was going on with me--I’d probably wish I had someone to trust to talk to about it.” He looked over at Sam and gave a smirk, before turning his gaze back on the road. “I also know I’d say ‘yeah, sure’ to the person offering and be thinking, ‘are you fucking nuts? I’m not telling you!’” He chuckled. “So take the offer if you want to. I’ll listen, offer advice if I think I have any, or shut up if I don’t. Just saying, you’ve got an ear if you want one. You don’t gotta be alone in this if you don’t want to be.”


	2. Chapter 2

Once they were in the motel room, Sam went to his duffel bag. A moment later, he brought a couple aspirin and water over to Dean. “You look like you need it,” he said. Suddenly, it struck him. He was sharing a room with Dean. _The_ Dean. The man he’d dreamt about far too often through the years. Although most of the awkwardness between them was gone when they were _out there_ , he wasn’t sure how it would work out inside a small motel room. 

“Thanks,” Dean said, popping the pills and knocking back the water. “Do you want to figure out our next step? Or keep that for morning?” Dean began unlacing his boots and kicked them off.

“Why don’t you get the sleep you need. I’ve got a lot of research on the orphanage already. I’ll finish it up, come up with some entry and exit plans, and we’ll talk through it tomorrow.” Sam was still too wired to sleep, and not only because of the hunt. _The Dean. In his room._ He wondered whether Dean snored. 

Grabbing his laptop out of his messenger bag, Sam tossed it on the free bed. Then he arranged the pillows, so he could comfortably sit against the headboard and do his research.

“I’m good with that,” Dean said and stripped off his shirts, his jeans and his socks, setting his dagger, pocketknife, wallet and keys on the nightstand. He slid his gun, safety on, under his pillow then pulled on some sweats and crawled under the covers, tossing the comforter aside. 

“Good night, Sammy,” Dean said, shutting his eyes and rolling onto his side. “Don’t wake me before 7.”

“It’s Sam,” he answered automatically, frowning a little at the lack of a response. Then he deliberately dragged his gaze away from the other hunter’s bed. He’d fantasized plenty about the guy the first time he’d met him, but he wasn’t about to do so now. They were sharing a room, and he just couldn’t disgrace himself again. Memories of the last time were more than enough to get him cringing. _It’s just a guy, like hundreds out there,_ he kept telling himself. If only his body would listen to reason.

Turning off most of the lights in the room, Sam stripped down to his shorts and got in bed. Then he forced his mind onto his research, scratching notes onto a pad of paper every once in a while.

After a couple hours had passed, he paused and couldn’t help smiling a little to himself. So, Dean Winchester didn’t snore. One more hatch mark on the ‘perfect guy’ list. With a soft sigh, Sam went back to his research. 

***

Dean tossed and turned, haunted by nightmares, his dead friend reminding him of the promise he’d made to take out the demon-blood kids. He’d let Andy live. He was inclined to do the same with Sam. _Don’t go soft! You need to take them all out!_ Dean shook his head. _Not everything supernatural is evil. You know that._ But demon blood…

Dean started awaking. Shit. He dry-scrubbed his face, tossed back the covers, and headed to the bathroom. All that coffee was apparently catching up with him. He nearly walked right into the closed bathroom door which suddenly opened, and he collided into a freaking sasquatch. “Holy crap!” 

“Whoa.” Automatically reaching out, Sam grabbed Dean’s hips, steadying both. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath. Under the moonlight flooding the room, he could see Dean clearly, shadows and light playing across his chest muscles. “Sorry, I, ah… didn’t mean to startle you… or anything.”

It was almost intimate, the way Sam’s hands rested on his hips. Sam’s chest was bare, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the guy smelled good. Real good. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” Dean said, staring up into the shadowed face. He finally gathered his wits and realized he was barring the way out of the bathroom. His gaze glanced briefly down to Sam’s wet lips shining in the moonlight. He cleared his throat and forced himself to step back. “Sorry. I seem to be… blocking your path.”

Swallowing, it took Sam a moment to realize he was still touching the other hunter. Dropping his hands, he whispered, “I’ve bumped into worse things in the night.” And damned if he didn’t sound like he was coming-on to the guy. _Again_. He stepped out and to the side, allowing Dean to pass him, though he couldn’t for the life of him, look away. 

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not. Kinda implies you’ve bumped into better things than me.” Dean leaned in a little as he passed and whispered in his ear. “Believe me. You haven’t. Bumped into better things than me in the night.” Dean couldn’t help his smirk as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

* * * 

Sam woke to thoughts of Dean’s comment and gave a huff. The guy thought a lot of himself. Then again, looking over at the other bed and seeing Dean looking damned hot even in sleep, a part of him had to admit the guy might have a point.

Getting up, he quietly dressed and left to get coffee. He’d slept with his hand under the pillow, over his weapon. Mostly, it was because Dean knew his secret. That alone should have kept him awake, but as soon as he hit the bed, he’d gone into a deep sleep. So deep, he hadn’t even heard the guy come back out of the bathroom. He’d let his guard down. Then again, nothing had happened. He was still in one piece and there wasn’t a bullet imbedded in his brain. So maybe he was being guarded for no reason.

About fifteen minutes later, Sam was pushing the motel room door open, and had coffee and donuts.

*

Dean had heard Sam leave the room. As soon as Sam was gone, Dean flicked back the covers and took the opportunity to quickly flip through Sam’s journal which was beside his laptop. He was looking for personal entries, not things about monsters. He found a few cryptic notes about Max Miller and a few about Andy, then some follow-up items that were obviously thoughts and questions, but the guy used some sort of coded shorthand. Dean took used his phone to take pictures of a couple of pages. He’d work on figuring them out later.

After carefully returning the journal to how he’d found it, he took a quick shower and shaved. He wanted to be dressed if Sam came back ready and raring to get back on the job. One thing Dean Winchester was not, was a slacker. He dressed in some fresh jeans and pulled a t-shirt on. He was walking out of the bathroom with his shaving supplies as the door began to open. Dropping his supplies on the bed, he snagged his gun from under the pillow and held it close but ready. When he saw it was only Sam, he released his breath.

“Dammit, announce yourself or risk getting shot,” Dean said, sliding his gun into the holster at the small of his back as he stepped forward to get a good sniff of the coffee.

“Sorry. Not used to having a trigger-happy roommate.” He passed the coffee to Dean and set the bag of donuts on the table. “Breakfast of champions,” he said wryly. 

Pulling a chair out with his leg, Sam dropped down on it, then rifled through some papers and drawings. “Map of the orphanage,” he said, shoving it across the table. “It’s nap or rest time for everyone from 1 to 2 in the afternoon; that might be a good time to get in there and take a look around.” 

“Is nap time parent code for ‘the brats are asleep, I can do my own shit for a while?’” Dean asked as he opened the bag of donuts. “And I heartily approve of your choice of breakfast. Just so you know. Coffee smells good.”

“Yeah, it means they won’t be running around, I guess.” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “It’s pretty good,” he agreed. “So, you feeling better? More like yourself?” 

“Yeah, sleep seemed to have done the trick.” Dean looked over the map as he bit into a powdered donut, white confectioner sugar sprinkling down his dark t-shirt and onto the table. “What sort of alarms and security does the place have? Cameras?” he asked as he traced his finger along some hallways, and noting what rooms were along those routes. 

“Standard alarms, nothing fancy. We should be able to turn them off. There’s a camera at the front gate, but that’s about it.” Sam took a bite of his donut, eating it much more neatly than Dean. “Maybe we can drive in. One of us stays in the car, the other goes in on official business. Then while one of us keeps the admins busy, the other can sneak around. If the car isn’t a viable exit, then there’s a back gate here.” He pointed. “It’s permanently locked but easy to climb.”

Dean stopped mid-bite. With his mouth full he gave Sam a dark look and spoke around the bite of donut. “I don’t leave Baby behind.” He chewed and swallowed. “If we’re risking bailing on a car, you’re driving.”

“I meant that if for some reason the driver has to get out, and the other one doesn’t make it back…” he let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll drive and play cop.”

Dean gave a small grunt. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. I can play Hardy Boys to your Five-oh.” He took a sip of his coffee, then pointed to the map. “Which of these three admin rooms do you think is priority?” 

“The paper files on the kids are kept in this room. There may be a secretary outside the door, but the window is another possible entry point if that’s the case. Other than the files, maybe the living quarters of the head of the orphanage, the medical people onsite…” Sam spread his hands.

Dean sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, needle in a stack of needles. So what else is new. What’s your spiel going to be? If I’m spotted, are we partners, or am I unknown to you?” He dug out a second donut.

“Plausible deniability. I don’t know you,” Sam said, then grinned. “You’re there to adopt a kid and you wandered in. The gate was open or whatever. I’m sure you’re great at spinning a story.”

“You have no idea,” Dean said, grinning back, then bit into the donut with a pleased “Mmmmm.”

* * *

After announcing himself at the gate, Sam drove through the large gates that opened for him. He drove slowly, giving Dean a chance to hop out of the car, before he sped up and drove up to the main building in the compound. He was greeted by the head of the orphanage, Dr. Grace Dunn. She had an assistant with her. Once they’d checked his FBI credentials, they walked him inside. Sam made sure the front door was slightly ajar so Dean could easily get in, if he found no other easy access.

He was shown to a large office and given a cup of coffee. 

“So, as I told you, there have been some questions about child trafficking out of surrounding orphanages,” Sam said.

“Now just a minute, I thought you were here about the recent rash of deaths?” Dr. Dunn said, her brows pinching at the bridge of her nose.

“Of course, the department is looking at that, but these are two completely separate cases. It’s just unfortunate that everything is coinciding.” If he had to guess, Sam thought she seemed to relax. He would keep her that way, at least for a while, to give Dean a chance to snoop.

“So, have you had any strange phone calls?” He flipped his notebook open. “Anyone offering to pay to take the kids to a play or some field trip? We’ve seen that at some of the orphanages that have been victimized.” Since his claims were false, he knew the answers would be ‘no,’ but he kept her talking. 

*

Finding a window leading to an empty room, Dean made short work of getting inside. It was a room filled with broken furniture, lamps, cleaning supplies and the like. The door was locked, but the button to unlock it was on his side. He cracked the door open, glancing up the hall, then used a mirror to check the hall from the other direction. It was clear.

Dean slipped down the hall, hoping to start with the records room. So far, Sam had been right about the halls being empty while the kids napped. The door to the records room was, of course, locked. It was an easy pick job and, as soon as he got inside, he headed for the filing cabinets.

First, he rifled through names and took pictures of the folder tabs in each drawer. If he had to make a hasty retreat, they’d be able to at least follow up on the names. 

Then he scrolled through the list Sam had emailed, yanking the folders of the kids on that list. He compared the records against the records of other kids who they’d already confirmed had actually found adoptive parents. 

The information in all the folders seemed routine and the type of stuff he would have expected. Records of phone calls made on various dates to get updates on the kid’s status, noting any adjustment issues, and some information about grades, events and activities in the kid’s lives, yada yada. Then it hit him. One big difference. The calls and entries on the folders related to kids that had been adopted were logged by different employees on different dates. However, the notes in the folders of the kids on Sam’s list were logged in by one single employee. Hillary Kingston. 

Dean slid the folders back in place after taking some pictures of the contents. More. They needed something more than this to prove something was going on. 

His eyes scanned the cluttered room. Suddenly, a little boy dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, appeared out of nowhere. The boy put his finger to his lips, turned around, and walked right through one of the walls.

“What the hell…?” Dean murmured but followed the ghost boy. As he approached the wall, a part of the wall suddenly slid open about three inches. Pulling out his flashlight, he shone it inside.

“Yahtzee. Thanks, kid,” he whispered and stepped into the hidden room.

* * *

Sam’s phone gave a soft bleep. He pulled it from his pocket and saw Dean’s text. Dean was ready to roll. 

Putting the phone away, he went through the pages of his notebook, crossing things off as he asked another couple question. Then he looked up, meeting the doctor’s eyes as he asked, “Dr. Dunn, what can you tell me about Hillary Kingston?”

“Who?” Dr. Dunn’s voice rose an octave.

“Ms. Kingston. I believe she’s employed by this facility?”

“It’s just, I haven’t heard that name in years. Hillary Kingston founded the orphanage at the turn of the century. She’s not an employee.” 

“Are you certain?”

“Of course I’m certain. Her tomb is on the grounds. And the funds she left have been heavily invested to keep the place going. Now if you’re done, I have some real business to take care of,” she said curtly, standing up.

“Of course, thank you for your time.” Sam walked to the door and turned back. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, before showing himself out.

*

He slowed down his car, rolling to a stop when he reached the spot where he’d dropped Dean off earlier. Reaching over, he pulled the handle of the passenger door, opening it.

Dean slipped into the car. “So, what about Hillary. Any reaction? I figured I’d better hurry out of there. Especially after ghost boy led me to a secret room off the records room.”

“Ghost boy? I think you’ve got a lot to catch me up on.” Sam hit the gas and they quickly were beyond the gates. “So, get this. Hillary is the founder of the orphanage. The orphanage has been around since the 1900s or so. So, she’s been dead a while.“ 

“Funny. Ms. Kingston was making follow up phone calls on the well-being of the kids supposedly adopted out that we can’t find. Real nice and neat handwriting, and a lefty based on the slant of the letters. I got pics so we can compare against handwriting samples.” Dean said. Seeing Sam was waiting on more, Dean gave a wave of a hand. “Some ghost kid appeared in the room, showed me the way to a secret room. The doorway just popped open. Inside were backpacks, stuffed animals, personal things. I also found a lockbox with social security cards. On the backs were great little notes like ‘tasted like chicken’ or ‘went well with a red Italian wine.’ That’s one twisted mo’fo’.” Dean grimaced and shook his head.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Sam said, making a face as he turned to Dean. Seeing he wasn’t, Sam shook his head. “One more reason to catch the sonovabitch. It’s enjoying this.“ He ran a hand over his face. “You know, my questions will have spooked them. I mean, if those files on the kids disappear, then we’ll know Dr. Dunn is involved, or passed the information on to someone who is. Maybe we should follow up with a request for the files, see what the response is.”

“Y’know, we do have one other little problem,” Dean said, biting on his lower lip a moment before releasing it and continuing. “If that SOB is working at the orphanage and noticed you today… it knows you’re not a Fed, but a hunter. It saw you the other night. Just saying we gotta be real careful going forward from here. If it has any sense, which I get the feeling the bastard’s freaking smart, if you try to come back a second time, your cover might be blown already and it could call the cops or worse, the real Feds. I also wouldn’t put it past this thing to start hunting _us_ now.”

“That’s a fair point. If it’s the doc, then she knew the moment I walked in. And if it isn’t, you can bet whoever it is was watching. And these things are always hell bent on keeping its cover.” Sam licked his lips. “We should dig in. Lay a trap, and wait for it to come after me, or us. I mean, you know it will, unless we’ve scared it away from the area. But with the sweet deal it has going here, I doubt that’s the case. What do you think?” 

“I’m thinking it’ll want eyes on both of us, but go after us separately. It’s what I’d do if I had two hunters on my ass and knew a two-man team could take me down. I don’t think we can risk laying a trap at the Lonely Hearts,” he said, referring to the motel. “But we do know a home that’s vacant right now…” His stomach growled softly. They hadn’t eaten lunch.

“We could end up wrecking the house,” Sam mused. “On the other hand, it has unfinished business there, so that might be an extra lure.” 

“It won’t know they bailed, and if we’re there with the lights on, TV on… yeah, it might come back. I think we gotta risk it. And if the place gets trashed, well, small price to pay to keep the kid safe, right?” Dean pointed out.

Sam gave a nod of agreement. Property damage was secondary. They needed to save lives that were at risk. “Let’s do it.”

* * * 

They brought a helluvalot of weapons inside the house. Then Sam watched in amazement as Dean helped himself to the contents of the fridge, making a multilayered sandwich. “That’s a lot of meat.”

“We missed lunch. And they aren’t going to be back before it goes bad, right? Less stuff for them to pitch. I’m doing them a favor,” Dean said and gave Sam a smug smile before taking a big bite out of his Dagwood sandwich. “Want me to make you one?” he asked around his very full mouth.

“Can you handle making mine one layer of bacon, lettuce, tomatoes and avocado?” Sam asked, then shook his head. “Didn’t think so.” Not that Sam was about to fry up any bacon, but ham or any other cold cut would do. He moved into the kitchen and started making himself something to eat. “There any soda in the kitchen?” 

“Only the diet crap,” Dean said. “There’s some bottled iced tea,” he added as an afterthought. “And beer.” He lifted the can of beer he had scavenged and took a swig of it. “Any ideas how we’re gonna sucker this thing?

“Yeah, I was thinking we could use you as bait. Oh wait, we tried that already,” Sam huffed, getting a beer. “This place has too many windows. We should lure it upstairs. It’ll break in from down here and won’t know we’ve got the windows secured upstairs. So as long as we can keep the damned thing up there until we gank it, we’re good.”

“It can come in through second story windows without much trouble,” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s jibe about him being bait. “But there are fewer windows to deal with upstairs, and yeah, it should be easier to contain, if we can get it up there.”

“The thing was standing around the kitchen, but it would have gone to the kid’s room for sure,” Sam said confidently. “We can make it look like the kid’s in bed, leave the bedroom door open. Then we know where it’s going. We can hide out in the closet.” He cleared his throat, “I mean _one of us_ can hide there.”

Dean tilted his head and looked at Sam. “Are you still wound up tight over the whole gay thing?” he asked.

“What?” Sam gestured and frowned. “No.” He wasn’t sure whether Dean was asking if he was self-conscious about liking men, or going back to their incident. 

“Then what’s with the whole,” and he did a terrible mimicry of Sam’s voice, “we can hide out in the closet, oh, let me clear my throat because I’m so worried you’ll freak, and say I mean only one of us can.” Dean gave him a pointed look and took another bite of his sandwich.

“Shaddup.” Sam gave him a look, then gestured again. “At a minimum, it vaguely sounded like a proposition. Which it isn’t. That’s all.”

Dean gave a huff not unlike the earlier one Sam had given and set his sandwich down. He swallowed and followed that with some beer then pushed himself to his feet. He crossed over to stand in front of Sam, looking up into his wary eyes. His eyebrows lifted a little then he put his arms around Sam and pulled him close, slanting his lips over Sam’s and giving him a good, solid, intense kiss, finishing it with running his tongue along the seam of Sam’s lips and releasing him. “I play both sides of the fence. When they’re not jailbait or making drunken propositions.”

Sam’s lips burned from the unexpected kiss. He hadn’t even had time to close his arms around the guy, but had lifted them up, and now dropped them. He let out a hot breath and swallowed and gave a nod. “So, you said,” he answered, licking his lips and tasting Dean. “Point made, I guess?”

Sam was on uncertain ground. On the one hand, he was still majorly attracted to the hunter. On the other, something still bothered him. Sure, he’d been drunk that night, but he wasn’t so sure Dean’s rejection had been about his age or state of inebriation. 

“All I’m saying is I slammed you down hard that night. I had my reasons, reasons that aren’t valid now. But, right now, we’re working as partners and I’m not going to think every little thing you say or do is a proposition. So, stop walking on eggshells like I’m gonna haul off and punch you if you say the wrong thing.” Dean reseated himself and picked up his sandwich. “For the record, when this job is over, if you let me know you might be interested… I might be, too. If, you know, we haven’t killed each other or gotten our lives sucked out of us.” Dean gave the guy a smirk and an obvious once over. “Yeah, definitely might be interested in a one nighter.”

Sam gave him a long look. He couldn’t deny there was something electric between them. Like last night, when they’d passed each other in the dark. Or now. Yeah, he wouldn’t pass up a chance at getting laid by Winchester. “We’ll talk about it after the job, then. For the record, I like my partners without their lives sucked out of them. Try not to play kissy-kissy with the shtriga this time, hmm?” Sam sat down with his food and glanced at Dean from under his lashes as he took a big bite. 

Dean started to make a retort when he almost dropped his sandwich instead. “The shtriga… it was female. I don’t know how I know, but I know it was. And what if--these things can hide in plain sight, look human, we know that--what if it’s hiding at the orphanage, not as an employee but as a kid?” Dean asked. Maybe he was way off on this but he looked to Sam to tell him if he was nuts.

“Anything’s possible. We don’t know much about shtrigas. If it’s a female and can shift, then Doc Dunn is high on the list, since she’s been at the facility for so many years.” Sam chewed and swallowed. “We could see which kid has been there the longest. But if they can shift… you know how hard it is to put a shifter down. Sons of bitches can look like your own mother, and you wouldn’t know it.”

“They aren’t shifters,” Dean said, glancing briefly at Sam and then looking away. “If they were, it wouldn’t take consecrated iron rounds to put them down. The couple shtrigas I know of always took the same form through the years. Shifters don’t usually do that either. They tend to be more opportunistic in choosing forms.” He took another bite and chewed, then glanced back over to meet Sam’s gaze. “If it is hiding there as a kid, then Dunn would know who it is. We can hunt up photos of the place through the years, see if we have anybody who looks the same through the years, staff or kids.”

“Yeah, but you realize I meant shifting abilities,” Sam said. “Not everything with shifting abilities is a shifter, or would share the same capabilities and weaknesses. If a shtriga can shift to human form, which is guess number one, there’s nothing to say that it can only shift to one form. But it likely at least prefers one form for longer periods of time, while it builds and lives a lie in that form, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean said quickly. “That you meant shifting abilities. And yeah, it might switch preferences over the decades…” Dean’s voice trailed off. He took a deep breath and gave Sam a quick perfunctory smile. “Sorry, was thinking about how bad this could mess us up if it does shift more frequently. We may not be able to ID it if we can’t get it to come after us.” Dean sucked down the rest of his beer. “Want another one while I’m up?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“Nah, I’m good.” Sam reached for his laptop, then pushed it away. ”I was going to check on the oldest student and other personnel, but I’ll leave it for tomorrow. If our plans pan out, that thing will come to us.” He shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “I’ll go and secure the windows, at least the one in the kid’s room. And I’ll make it look like the kid’s in bed. We can put the TV on in the master bedroom, and maybe run the shower.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll adjust the lights down here to be similar to how they were last night and pick up as soon as I finish, then start hauling our stuff upstairs,” Dean said, grabbing another beer out of the fridge. He popped the can and took a long drink and heard Sam climbing the stairs. “I’m Dean Winchester, the most bad-ass, mother-fucking hunter ever born,” he whispered, forcing himself to find that trademark smirk and look of confidence. He took a fortifying breath and headed back out to the table where his sandwich waited on him.

***

It was real late. They had decided it would be better for one of them to actually be in the bed rather than trying to just make it look occupied. Sam was in the kid’s bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, and the blankets up to his chin. The stuffed animals covered up most of his head and hid part of his face. He'd been tense for hours, waiting for the shtriga which might never come.

He glanced at the closet across the room. Dean was inside it. Sam's life was in the guy's hands if the shtriga appeared. It had to be feeding on Sam before it would be vulnerable, and then Dean would need to take it down. Sam had volunteered for bed duty, since Dean had played bait the last time. It didn't make him any less nervous about the impending attack, though.

*

Dean yawned and glanced at his watch. He’d turned off the TV in the master bedroom two hours ago and shut off the lights. He had really figured the thing would come within the hour. But it hadn’t, and Dean was wishing he had some coffee. Course if the thing got a whiff of coffee coming from the kid’s room, the jig would be up.

He’d offered to be in the bed, but Sam had insisted it was his turn to play bait, so Dean reluctantly let him. Sam had to be as uncomfortable as hell in that small bed, though being stuffed in the tiny closet wasn’t much better. He rested his head against the wall and kept his eyes on Sam, the gun held ready. Being patient sucked ass. 

*

The hardest part of being in a bed while waiting for something to happen was the boredom, and the fact that beds were conducive to making you sleep. Sam tried to keep his mind busy, and occasionally even allowed himself to daydream about what it might be like to kiss Dean, hardcore, passionate, kiss him. Course one thought lead to another and he ended up having to wrench his thoughts away to other, banal things. Why the hell was he so stuck on the guy? Okay, aside from the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous, why couldn't Sam get him out from under his skin? It should be easy. Just thinking about how Dean had reacted to Sam’s drunken propositions should make him gun shy. As for the kiss in the kitchen, yeah, he didn’t know what to make of that.

A creak sounded. Sam was instantly on full alert, moving slightly in the bed and hoping it caught Dean's attention.

A shadow swept slowly into the room, pausing now and again as if listening or watching. Maybe it suspected a trap. Maybe it knew Sam and Dean were the ones in there. They’d set up pillows in the master bedroom to look like sleeping bodies but if it had gone in there first, they could be screwed.

The shadowy form finally glided toward the bed. Dean only hoped once it saw Sam it wouldn’t just bolt. He was ready to block the doorway if it tried to run instead of feeding. Once it saw Sam, it would have to realize Dean was here, too. He all but held his breath and waited for the glowing spiritus vitae to start passing from Sam to the shtriga.

Sam's heart rate shot up as he watched the figure approach. _Be awake. Be awake. Be awake._ If Dean had fallen asleep, Sam was fucked.

The thing moved closer to him. A dank smell emanated from it, like it belonged in a river swamp. He tried not to move as it bent over him. He had a gun, but it took everything he had not to use it. To allow the monster to feed from him.

He thought the thing would pull the blanket down to see his face. Instead, there was a sudden tug on Sam's innards, a choking pain, and his life was seeping out of his mouth and into the shtriga's.

Dean forced himself to wait a two count after he saw the bluish light of Sam’s essence reflected on the wall. The shtriga was blocking his view of Sam. The thing would realize immediately the spirit of life it was drinking was not that of a child. Dean kicked open the closet door. “Hey fugly!” he shouted.

The thing turned, bluish white lifeforce still getting sucked into its dark maul, its eyes holding an unholy gleam. Dean put three rounds in the thing’s chest, then one in its head. Then he heard the banshee-like shriek from behind him. He turned as a second shadow rushed in, tackling him. “My child! My child!” it wailed and began to choke Dean as it drank in Dean’s lifeforce.

As the thing let go of his essence, Sam lay there, his chest heaving, sucking in as much air as he could get. It was almost as if he was trying to take back what was taken from him.

He expected to see Dean standing over the creature he'd killed. Instead, he was met with the sight of another shtriga attacking Dean.

"Holy shit." He searched the bed for the weapon that had slipped out of his grip when that thing had started draining him of life. Once his hand closed around it, he was out bed and unloading bullets directly into the shtriga's temple. One, two, three. 

The thing collapsed and Sam caught Dean, preventing Dean from also hitting the floor. "You must taste delicious, if that thing went after you twice." He was still a little unsteady himself, but he managed the joke and a weak smile. 

“Maybe you’ll get to find out for yourself,” Dean rasped as he took a couple deep breaths and grinned back at Sam. He and Sam leaned on each other and a little unsteadily made it out of the room. 

Dean opened the master bedroom. “Keep your mind out of the gutter. We both need to catch our breath before cleanup duty. If the cops didn’t show last night, it’s doubtful anyone heard to call it in tonight. Lay down for about fifteen minutes. It’ll help. I’ll watch for cops.” He helped Sam collapse onto the bed, and he sank into a chair by the window.

Sam ran his hands over his face and drew in a couple breaths. “Feels like something just stomped all over me from the inside. You were right, there was more than one. You think this is it, the two of them?"

“God, I hope so. I don’t want to have to go up against the baby daddy right now, too. I’m not sure either of us can take another spirit pounding like that tonight,” Dean said. He should have grabbed the police scanner from their duffle, but he wasn’t going to get up to get it from downstairs. “If there is another, it’s a good bet it’ll bolt and there’s not a damned thing we can do but wait for it to start chowing on kids in some new place,” he said with a sigh. He could feel his energy slowly seeping back into him.

Sam made a tired sound of acknowledgement. His limbs were so heavy it hurt to move. "If they did have shifting abilities, we'll know in a day or two. There should be missing persons reports." He rolled to his side and looked at Dean. "You need to talk to Bobby about having some sort of ‘clean up after hunters’ service. Isn't he like your uncle or something?"

Dean chuckled. “Who has the money to pay them?” An almost soft smile curled his lips. “He’s not really my uncle. He helped trained my father, and Dad would drop me off there if the hunt was going to be long and he didn’t want me in some fleabag motel by myself that long. Sometimes there was another kid there, too, younger, thought I was the coolest thing since ice cream. He was an orphan that the hunters kind of looked after and trained, passing the kid around at times. I didn’t mind pretending I had a little brother, sometimes. He was a little weird, but okay.”

"You keep in touch?" Sam asked. He'd been an only child, too. And with being on the road a lot with his mom, there had never been the potential that they'd settle down and he'd have a sibling.

Dean glanced out the window. “We partnered up now and again. Had a hunt go sideways on us and I’m the only one that walked away. It… sucked. Felt like I lost my brother that day. Honestly? Haven’t seen Bobby much since that day. Kinda been avoiding him. I dunno how he’d feel about it all and until… until I keep my promise, I just don’t want to see the hurt and disappointment.” 

Sam could tell there was a lot going on under the surface there. "We all go into this knowing the risks." That sounded like a pat answer, even if true. "Sorry about your partner. And I'm sure you'll keep your promise to him."

Sam waited a beat, but understood when the other hunter didn't say anything else. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, cursing under his breath.

Dean glanced at Sam. “We can chill for another ten or twenty probably,” he said, his voice a little husky. “The longer you rest, the stronger you’ll feel.”

Sam had the feeling the quicker he got back to their room and crashed, the better. "I'm fine." He pushed himself to get off the bed. "Might not have mentioned it, but I'm not good at relaxing." As he walked by Dean, he gave Dean's shoulder a light squeeze. "You stay put for as long as you need."

Dean pushed himself to his feet. “You kidding? One of the few perks of this jobs is salting and burning the remains. Faster we get the car loaded and this place tidied up, the sooner that can happen.”


	3. Chapter 3

They slept most of the day away. When they finally roused, both found they were ravenous. Sam took the computer along and started running checks to see if anyone was reported as missing. Dr. Dunn and one of the children had been reported as missing that morning.

“Man, that bitch sure played it smooth while you were questioning her and playing up Hillary Kingston,” Dean said, shaking his head. They’d returned to the burger joint they’d eaten at that first night and Dean was happily eating not one, but two burgers. “How you feeling?”

Sam rubbed his eyes with both hands, then ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face. Cracking his neck, he took a deep breath. "Okay. Like I've slept for twelve hours straight. Just glad it's over." He reached for his burger and took a bite and was eyeing his fries like he couldn't wait to get them in him. "Not sure I've ever felt this hungry. I think you're a bad influence."

Dean laughed. “I try very hard to be a bad influence. I’m guessing you won’t be skipping that pie this time. After dinner, wanna hit a bar for some darts or pool?” he asked, though he was beginning to eye Sam with a more pronounced interest. “Or, I’m open to _other_ suggestions.” He licked his lips and smirked at Sam.

"I'll bet you do try hard." Sam lifted his face and smiled. "Bar sounds good. I hear you play a wicked game of pool; I'd like to see you in _action_."

“My dad taught me pool. He was awesome at it. I’ll bet you’re pretty wicked in action, too. Hope I get to see _that,_ ” Dean said, his eyes twinkling. He knew it would probably be a couple hours before they made it back to the motel, assuming they went to play pool, but he was more than ready to flirt with Sam, see if he could get the guy to blush, tease him and drive him crazy. He focused all his attention on Sam while talking with him. “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know. Dream vacation, what you’d be now if not a hunter, favorite rescue. Whatever.” 

When the guy turned the charm on, he turned it up all the way. Sam remembered watching and wishing it were directed to him instead of the chicks that circled him that night, years ago. The night he'd made a fool of himself. A part of him still believed the guy wasn't interested in other men, but hanging around him the last couple days, Sam had to believe he'd been wrong about that. Dean had outright told him he swung both ways, and he was clearly flirting with him. He wasn't going to let memories of that night get in his way. That was then. This was now. And now, Dean was interested.

Sam looked up for a moment, trying to think of what to tell Dean. "Okay so, when I was a kid, I had an invisible friend. My, ah... mom thought it was because I never got enough time in a town to make close friends, you know the drill." He waited for confirmation, given that Dean knew the life of a hunter’s kid well. "So, I used to see him, talk to him, for years. If I had a problem, needed advice, my invisible friend was there to listen. This one time, we were camping in tents, up in the mountains. There weren't any nearby motels, so mom took me along."

He took a bite of his food, then washed it down with his drink. "So that night I got up to take a piss. Outside the tent, there was my invisible friend. Only, he wasn't just listening anymore. He was talking to me. He waved me over, whispering, 'this way Sammy, this way.' I wasn't allowed to wander but," he gave a shrug, and took a breath.

"He led me further and further, to this big hole in the dirt. Kept saying 'come see, come see.' So, I went closer, and dropped down to look. I remember my heart was racing. Anyways, it was dark, so I had to really get down, and --" Sam gripped Dean's arm suddenly, making a "voosh!" noise.

Dean had been listening with interest, trying to guess what it was. A ghost friend, attached to something he carried? Maybe some sort of magical being latched on to him? He jumped when Sam made the sudden sound and gripped him. 

Then Sam was laughing.

“You are so full of shit!” Dean declared, irritated with himself for letting Sam suck him into the story. He shook his head, leveling a glare at Sam as he made a disgruntled sound and picked up an onion ring. Still, he would have to remember that trick and that story. 

Still chuckling, Sam turned tables on him. "Now you tell me something about yourself I don't know. And be straight about it," he smirked as he picked up the last of his burger.

“Bitch,” Dean said and scratched his chin. “The only thing that comes to mind isn’t really interesting,” he said. He kinda sucked as a storyteller if he couldn’t lie, but he saw that he’d piqued Sam’s interest anyhow. “No laughing,” he said and leaned forward a little. “I’ve never been in a plane. Or a hot air balloon. Or a helicopter. Flying freaks me out. Planes crash.”

“What? Tough hunter like you? No freakin’ way,” Sam said, trying but failing to hold his laughter in as he searched Dean’s face for signs he was kidding. Seeing none, he leaned forward to confide. “Alright, here’s mine, but if it gets out, I’ll know the source because _no one_ knows about this. Clowns freak me out. I mean majorly,” he added, nodding.

“Clowns? Like Ronald McDonald and circus clowns? Why? Did you watch ‘Killer Clowns from Outer Space’ one too many times when you were a kid?” Dean asked. He’d heard of people who were completely freaked out by clowns but had never met someone. He couldn’t help a chuckle at the thought.

Sam gave a weary shrug. “Beats me. Just the way it is. I accept it and move on.” He grabbed another couple of the quickly disappearing fries. “What was that you were saying about dessert?”

“Pie. Best dessert ever invented. Unless you were talking about a different kind of dessert. But it better be something spectacular to make me forego pie,” Dean said, his face serious.

“I think I need something to fill me up.” Realizing he’d just put his foot in his mouth, Sam made a face, “I mean fill my stomach, yeah pie will do just fine,” he said, grabbing the menu and hiding behind it while mentally kicking himself.

Dean couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing until he was practically crying. He finally waved down a waitress, still wiping at his tears. “Pie. I’d like a piece of apple and peach on the same plate with one scoop of ice cream, no whipped cream. And I think he wants something to,” he smirked, “fill _his stomach_.”

“Sir?” the waitress asked, looking at Sam.

Sam looked up. “I’ll have the same, with the whipped cream, and never mind him.”

“Right away,” she said with a smile and left.

“I just might need another re-do,” Sam muttered through tight lips.

“Aw, Sammy, I’m sorry, that was just too… who’s the guy? Freud. Freudian. I won’t make fun… except when the time is too perfect to pass up.” He grinned and lightly kicked Sam under the table. “Teasing. And I approve of your taste in dessert.”

Sam gave a soft laugh and shook his head. “I don’t know what it is about you, you still get me nervous as hell.” 

“Maybe cause I’m awesome.” Dean nodded. “Adorable, too. Hell, I’d be nervous around me,” he said with a wink.

That had Sam laughing outright. “You’re impossible.”

* * *

As Sam bent over the pool table to line up his shot, he felt Dean standing practically behind him. He cleared his throat. “Something I can do for you?” he asked, without turning around.

Dean looked down at Sam’s tight ass in his nicely tight jeans. “Tell me to behave myself in public,” Dean said. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move away from temptation.

Looking over his shoulder, Sam saw the way Dean was looking at him, and laughed. “You could always forfeit…”

Dean shifted his attention to Sam’s face, then to the twenties laying on the edge of the table. They’d already played a handful of games, had beers and shots, sometimes at the same time. He put his cue stick back on the rack, picked up the twenties and slid them into the front pocket of Sam’s shirt. “I forfeit.” 

“What?” Sam was shocked. He’d been kidding and thought there was no way. Course he couldn’t help the heat coiling inside him at the thought that Dean ended the game early for one reason, and one reason only. He licked his lips and gave a nod. Silently putting his cue away, he joined Dean and they headed out of the bar.

They hadn’t bothered to drive, which Dean was sort of regretting because he loved making out in Baby, but the bar was only three blocks from the motel, opposite the direction of the hamburger joint. “Giving you fair warning. I’m keeping my hands to myself during this walk because,” he cleared his throat, “‘cause once I start touching you, I’m not stopping and I’m not going to grope you in some glass-ridden, rat-and-trash infested alley.”

“Your rule apply to me, or can I grope?” Sam asked, stealing a glance at Dean. Most of the time, the guy looked relaxed, and on the verge of smiling, but not now. The intensity in his gaze, his expression, took Sam’s breath away.

“Probably not the wisest thing to do since I keep picturing myself throwing you up against a brick wall, groping you, and… seeing how far you’ll let me go with cars going by on the road. And I’d be trying my damnedest to convince you to let me go all the way.” Dean glanced at him, his breathing coming out a little faster as his gaze slid down over Sam and he licked his lips. 

The images that brought to Sam’s mind almost had him groaning out loud. Suddenly, his jeans were tight. “Walk faster,” he grit out, lengthening his strides and trying to remember whose bright idea it had been to walk to the bar.

The electricity between them flared and surged with promise. Sam was extremely aware of Dean’s every move, even the breaths he took. He imagined that mouth of his speaking hotly in his ear, which increased his torture tenfold. 

Dean glanced over at Sam and reached out, grabbing his hand. “Screw it. This is worth the exercise.” He broke into a run, tugging Sam along with him. “I can’t wait to get you naked,” he said quietly as they crossed the street at almost a dead run.

The raw lust in Dean’s voice got to Sam. He couldn’t even muster up a laugh, or a joke about feeling like a high school kid again. All he knew was his body craved Dean’s, and waiting one minute more than necessary was not an option. 

By the time they’d reached the motel and crossed the parking lot, they were breathing hard. They stood outside the door and Sam searched his pocket for the damned key. “I think you can safely maul me now,” he panted.

Dean didn’t have to be told twice and pressed up against Sam’s backside, his right hand sliding to Sam’s groin, zeroing in on Sam’s hard cock. He gave a groan as he squeezed Sam and ground against his backside. “You have no idea of the dreams you’ve been giving me, Sammy,” he breathed into Sam’s ear.

“Fuck…” Dean’s mouth against his ear, his body grinding against him, and his hand boldly cupping him had Sam burning up and hardly able to think. His nerveless fingers finally closed around the key. “You’re right, I don’t,” he whispered, trying to get the key into the lock. “But I’ve been dreaming about you forever.”

“Then I guess you wished upon the right star cause tonight we both get what we want. Each other.” Dean pushed away the brief thought that Sam was one of the demon’s blood-kids. He usually didn’t get what he wanted, and he was okay with that, it was part of the Winchester curse, which now applied to him. But tonight, he really wanted Sam. And tonight, nothing was going to mess this up. He’d deal with the ramifications tomorrow. If there was one thing Dean Winchester was good at, it was putting off dealing with things he didn’t want to deal with. And he was okay with that, too.

He began sucking on the side of Sam’s neck, immediately savoring Sam’s taste, giving a soft groan as he put his mark on the man. His cock grew harder and he was all kinds of ready to be in the damned room right the hell now. Letting go of Sam’s cock, he took hold of Sam’s hand and steadied it, helping Sam get the key in the lock, then went right back to groping Sam.

Turning the key, Sam groaned when Dean’s hand moved right back over his cock. The guy was so damned confident and aggressive, everything Sam could ever want. He got the door open, then turning, grabbed Dean’s jacket. Yanking him inside, he kicked the door shut, locked it, and leaned his back against it, without ever releasing Dean. Dragging him close, he slanted his mouth over Dean’s to get a first taste of what he craved with every fiber of his being.

Sam wasn’t disappointed. As their tongues tangled, he knew Dean would go at this the way he did everything else. Full speed ahead. No looking back. Do or die, and fuck if Sam didn’t feel the same. “Mmm,” he groaned, pushing his hand between their bodies and shoving it inside the front of Dean’s pants. Fuck… the guy was so damned hard, it made Sam’s head spin. “You gonna fuck me hard, Dean? So hard I can’t walk straight?” he asked, he demanded. It was what he wanted, needed, as much as his next breath. 

“I’m going to fuck you so damned hard you’ll think I’m made of steel. You won’t walk straight for a month,” Dean got out between gasps and groans as Sam felt him up. He pressed closer, crushing his lips against Sam’s, swallowing both their groans as his hands roamed over Sam’s body. “I’m going to make you mine,” Dean said when he broke off for a breath and began to drag Sam deeper into the room.

That almost sounded like something more permanent than a one-night stand, but Sam knew lots of things were said in the heat of passion. Or Dean could have edited himself from saying something else. “You better put your money where your mouth is,” Sam answered, “the money you forfeited is riding on this.”

Sam pulled his hand free and started unbuttoning Dean’s jeans. Then he grabbed his jacket again and kissed him hard, his mouth riding Dean’s. The way the man’s hands moved over him was driving him crazy. Wrenching his mouth away, he started to push Dean’s jacket off his shoulder, then his shirt. His hand met cold, hard steel, the sharp edge of a dagger and he pulled back.

Dean winced. “Sorry. I’m still packing more than just my… _rifle,_ ” he said. He reached over his shoulder and pulled out the blade Sam had partly unsheathed and set it on the table, then pulled his gun from its holster in the small of his back, and set it beside the knife, his thumb brushing over the safety to ensure it was on. He leaned forward and kissed Sam while he worked on pulling out his pocketknife and wallet. After he set them aside he gave Sam a gratuitous grope and popped the top button of Sam’s jeans with well-practiced ease.

“Fuck… yeah,” Sam gave a soft moan and started to undress himself. Pulling his own pistol out, he passed it to Dean who was blocking the nightstand. “Can’t wait to get in your pants,” he said, his eyes flaring with lust as he looked Dean up and down.

“When I get you out of your pants, you’re not getting dressed again all night long,” Dean teased as he set the gun down without even looking.

Bending over, Sam pulled a small pistol out of his boot, passed it over, then took the boot off. “Can’t believe we just slept the day away.” He started unlacing his other boot, pulled his silver dagger out. “Here.” 

“That’s what happens when you tangle with-- sonuvabitch!” Dean shouted, dropping the silver knife, burns on his hand still smoking where he’d briefly grabbed hold of it. His gaze shot to Sam who was processing what he was seeing. “Dammit,” Dean cursed, twisting and grabbing his gun, flicking off the safety and side-stepping, getting distance between him and Sam and kicking the silver knife away in the process. 

He held the gun on Sam. “It’s not what you think.”

Also acting on instinct, Sam made a grab for the gun on the nightstand, and turned on Dean, his chest heaving. “Sonova…” His eyes darkened with accusation. “You’re not Dean.” All of a sudden, it made sense. Why Dean was enthusiastic now, versus years back.

His jaw tightened painfully. “Sit down,” he ordered, very aware that Dean-- he didn’t know what else to call him-- had a gun trained on him as well. “What are you?” It took a split second for him to figure it out. “Shifter,” he said, his tone making it clear what he thought of the breed.

“Nah, don’t think so. You might have silver bullets in that gun, you might not. It’ll take silver to kill me, but my gun, my bullets? Every last one of them can kill you. You’re just human. And don’t be getting all high and mighty because you think all my kind should be taken out. We’re not all alike. Besides, not like you can talk, what with that demonic power you’ve got,” Dean said. He didn’t move any further away, nor did he make any move to try and leave.

“Right. You’re not all alike. Because you’re not here masquerading as Dean Winchester,” Sam said, his eyebrows lifting to emphasize his sarcasm. Course the rest of what the shifter had to say put him on the defense. “What the fuck are you talking about. No one said it was demonic,” he countered, his finger pressing a little more on the trigger. It might not kill him, but it would slow him down and the silver dagger was right there, on the floor between them.

“Dean did,” ‘Dean’ said. “He knew any power you developed would be demonic. You’re one of the demon’s blood-kids, Sam. Like Max Miller. Like Anson Weams. Andy, too. Andy seems content to just read and smoke pot which is why he’s still alive. For the moment. Dean made me promise to take out the blood-kids if even one went bad. So, I should kill you-- but, I wanted more convincing that you were dangerous. He’d kick my ass for even giving you a chance, or maybe just thinking with my downstairs brain more. I don’t know.” He straightened his arm slightly. “Ease up on that trigger, kid. I won’t miss with my first shot.”

“Neither will I.” A muscle twitched in Sam’s jaw. His nostrils flared as he stared right back at the guy. He knew Dean had the advantage. He also knew if Dean had wanted to harm him, he’d had plenty of opportunity. 

Slowly, he lowered the gun, then set it down. “Where is he? Dean Winchester. The real one,” he asked. “What kind of sick game are you two playing at?” 

As soon as Sam’s fingers were no longer touching the gun, Dean lowered his gun but didn’t holster it. “He died,” Dean said, his voice catching a little. “I was the kid that Dean sometimes treated like a little brother. I worshipped him. He was my hero. A hunt went bad, just like I told you, but he’s the one who died. He asked me to,” Dean swallowed, “he asked me to become him. To carry on. To kill Azazel, the demon who gave blood to a whole bunch of babies, you among them. His mom was a hunter and Azazel killed her when she’d figured out what he was doing and tried to stop him. Azazel took out John Winchester, too, years later. So, I’m after Azazel now.” Dean gave a one-shouldered shrug. “So far… not had much luck tracking the bastard, or finding the colt, the legendary gun that can supposedly kill any demon or monster. In the meantime, I’m at least trying to find the blood-kids, to keep an eye on them. Decide if Dean was right and they’re too dangerous to let live, or not. Maybe if I kill Azazel, he’ll lose his hold on the kids. On you.” 

Sam should be disgusted or suspicious of the shifter’s claim that Dean asked him to continue as Dean. The fact was, though, that there was a hunter’s tradition. Some hunters did take on the names of their partners, or blood brothers, soldiering on under their mantle. It wasn’t beyond belief that Dean asked the shifter to do so, particularly if the shifter was his partner. In the back of his mind, Sam remembered hearing an uproar about a shifter-hunter. So, nothing the man said so far rang untrue.

Sam gave a nod. He felt numb inside. Suddenly, the line in his mother’s journal, about her greatest fear being having to kill the child with the demon blood, made sense. She hadn’t named him, because she knew he’d see. “Alright. Fuck.” He let out a breath. “You clearing out or do you want me to?”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised. “That’s it? You’re not going to go hunter on my ass?” Seeing Sam’s look he gave a nod. “I’m good with that. You keep my secret, I keep yours. But there are others out there who know about the blood-kids. If they know you’re one, they’ll try to kill you just on principle. Kinda like they’d do to me.” He holstered his gun. “I’ll get the hell out of your hair. You wanna hand me my stuff?” he said, indicating his weapons that were on the nightstand along with the gun Sam had set down.

Sam stared at him. He’d wanted, no, he’d needed to get laid, and none of it had been real. And on top of that, he now had to deal with the knowledge that he, himself, was tainted. He slashed his hand in a gesture. “I need to get some air. Don’t be here when I get back.”

Picking up one of his shirts, Sam put it on, then shoved his weapon into the back of his pants, pulling the shirt down over it. He slid his boot back on but left both unlaced. Giving the guy one last look, he brushed past him and walked out into the parking lot.

* * * 

Three months later, Sam had researched the hell about the other ‘demon-blood kids,’ and learned a little more about the yellow-eyed demon. Just knowing that his mom had been referring to him in her journal, and the other similar kids she’d discovered, made it easier for him to decipher some of her coded comments. But he hadn’t gotten anything concrete about himself. Turns out she’d been on the same trail as Dean’s mother. 

And now Sam knew why his own mother had been killed. She’d owned the colt, though no one else knew that. He was pretty certain that Azazel killed her in order to take the gun, because when she was murdered by the yellow-eyed bastard, the gun went missing.

The headaches were more frequent now, other powers started to manifest, and he didn’t have control over them. When he was angry and about to be clobbered, things, items like barstools and beer bottles, flew through the air in his defense. There were also the premonitions which had become stronger, sharper, and longer. Each manifestation of his power was a reminder. This wasn’t a talent, a gift from the heavens. It was demon blood. It didn’t matter how many evil cockroaches Sam killed, the demon … the evil roaches… were a part of him, running through his very veins.

He drank a shot, then ordered another from the bartender. 

Dean slid onto the stool beside Sam. “I don’t know about you, but I have a serious case of deja vu.” He caught the bartender’s attention and ordered two shots of whiskey. “Bad day at the office?” Dean faced Sam, uncertain if Sam would leave in a huff, try to knife him with the silver blade he carried, or clock him one.

Sam glanced over and instantly felt every muscle in his body tense for all the wrong reasons. “ _Adam_ ,” he said, distinctly, mainly trying to protect himself from feelings that just would not die, no matter what he did or thought. 

Dean straightened a little, his brow creasing. “I guess you talked with Bobby? There are only a few who know what happened, who I _was_. But Adam is gone. I ‘imprinted.’” He took a hit from his drink, glancing away from Sam for a moment. After a sigh, he looked back at Sam and saw he was waiting for an explanation. “When a shifter mimics someone, some can do it right down to the cell level. They can even form a telepathic link if they want. A deep link, that copies everything, that’s imprinting. Every memory, every nuance Dean had, I copied over and burned everything into my brain permanently. I’m a Xerox copy or a clone or a double. However you want to think of it. I haven’t shifted since that day. I kept almost nothing from Adam,” he gave a shrug, “so what you see is who I am. And I’m Dean Winchester, now.” His face grew hard. “I would appreciate it if you remember that.”

Giving him a long look, Sam relented. Taking one of the glasses that the bartender brought over, he raised it. “Dean. I’ll remember.” He downed it, giving an “ah” at the after burn. “Another round.” He told himself it was because he didn’t want to owe the man. Still, he squelched the voice in his head telling him to walk away. 

“You got any news on the colt, or…” Sam cocked his head, “any of the other demon-blood kids.” It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he was trying to accept what, who he was.

The lines in Dean’s face smoothed. He pulled out his father’s journal that he had since started adding to and placed it on the bar in front of Sam. “Have a look if you want. I’ve got a couple names. One girl is like you, has premonitions. Another, a guy, can electrocute with a touch. He’s probably going to have to be put down, but,” Dean shook his head, “I’m not going to make any hasty decisions. The kid is trying to get a handle on what’s happening to him and until I know which side he lands on, I’m not convinced tainted blood equals evil. If we don’t believe in free choice, then what the fuck’s the point?” Dean downed his whiskey, then took a sip from the new one Sam had bought. “Nothing on the colt. So, what about you? Made any headway? Or any new talents you’re willing to tell me about?”

Sam greedily pulled Dean’s journal over and started reading, shaking his head. “No, but….” He took a deep breath. “Telekinesis. I have it,” he admitted, a muscle throbbing in his jaw. “I found another one like me but... he jumped. I told him I could help him, but he knew I was lying, and he jumped.” Sometimes Sam wondered if _that,_ if _suicide_ was the right thing to do, knowing what he knew. 

Dean nodded, understanding. “Can I get his name and a description and the highlights? I’m trying to see if there’s any pattern to locations and movements.” He took another, deeper sip of his whiskey. “Whenever I make an entry in the journal, I take a picture of it and store it online. Keep saying I’ll start typing shit in, but yeah, not great at that sort of thing. If you trade with me, I’ll trade with you. I know it goes against ‘The Hunter Code’ to share research most times, but I’ll give you access to my online backup folder. If you want it,” he offered.

Startled by the offer, Sam looked over at him, searching his eyes. “It’s unusual, but I’ve often wondered whether it’s just stupid. All these bits of information, and no real way to put it all together. How many hunters could sharing have saved?” He gave a nod. “Deal. I’ll snap a picture of my entries and send them to you, then we can have access to all the information between us. I don’t have everything uploaded anywhere right now.”

“I think it’s just that before, there was no real way to share without copying your journal by hand. Not like someone’s going to hand over their life’s work to someone else in the business,” Dean said.

After Sam finished skimming over the pertinent parts he was most interested in, he closed the book and passed it back. Once Dean gave him access to the entries, he’d take his time and pick through it. “I have to say you have unusual viewpoints for a hunter. I like it.” Sam sometimes felt like a bit of an outsider, and he put it down to the fact that he had a higher education, and had learned to look at things from multiple viewpoints. “One thing I hate to hear is ‘that’s the way we’ve always done it.’”

Dean pursed his lips a moment. “That’s probably a bit of Adam sneaking in,” he admitted. “Shifters have unusual viewpoints. Those who aren’t driven crazy. When a shifter shifts, if the person is close, the brainwaves are identical. Telepathy after a fashion. A shifter can sift through the target’s brain, all the memories. Everything good, bad and in between. I think being all those different people sort of makes most shifters go nuts. Purebreds are more stable. Adam was purebred.” Seeing Sam’s puzzlement, he explained. “Just means both parents were shifters. The hunters who found Adam thought maybe he could go from being a monster to a human, and Bobby was willing to be the surrogate parent and raised him. That’s… outside the box thinking. Even if they just looked at me as a useful tool. Not everyone did, though. Bobby didn’t. Dean thought Adam was a freak, was weird, but he still cared about him, thought he could do a lot of good.” Dean lifted his glass. “To freaks who are hunters, or hunters who are freaks.” 

“To freaks.” Sam knew the comment was directed to himself as well. It was accurate and stung less coming from a fellow freak. This time, he didn’t down its contents. “So, what brings you to this town?” he asked. Last time hadn’t been a coincidence. This time, Sam was only driving through this town on his way somewhere else, so Dean couldn’t claim to be here on a specific job.

“Headed to south Texas,” Dean said. “Been enough sightings of a chupacabra, I’m thinking they’ve really got one, so I’m going to go check it out. Cabras don’t usually go after people, but there’s a report of a kid who got attacked by a coyote.” He gave a slight nod. “Not to say a coyote couldn’t be the culprit, but my gut says it’s a hunt. I wasn’t planning on stopping here but I blew my water pump a few miles up the road and gotta wait until the auto shop opens. You? Something happening here? Need any backup?”

Sam shook his head ‘no.’ “Just a convenient stop. I’m headed for Florida. Wish I could say it was for the sunshine and beaches.” He laughed. Recalling how well they’d worked together, and the fun Dean had brought to the hunt, he looked down for a moment, then back at the guy. He couldn’t think of a way to ask if the guy wanted to join him on his hunt, and really, deep down, he was sure it would be a bad idea anyway. “I may have vamps, but it could be nothing.”

Dean made a face. “Damn, dude, you should really have a doctor look at that. Don’t you know vamps can be contagious?” He saw the look in Sam’s eyes, the wishful thinking, the underlying heat that just a nudge could bring out. Not that Sam would seriously entertain screwing a ‘thing’ like him. Like Sam had once said, he’d been dreaming about Dean forever. The original Dean. Not him, the copy, the look-a-like. And maybe that hurt, just a little.

Sam gave a huff, laughing a little and shaking his head. “Been too busy to catch anything.” It was more that he’d been a little too hung up on the guy, comparing potential lays to him and just… “So, how about we exchange emails, so I can let you know when I’ve uploaded my journal. If you’re serious about that. I’ve still got your number from our hunt. You still have mine?” Course some subdirectories would be for his eyes only but that was a given.

“Wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t mean it. Yeah, still have your number.” He pulled out his phone and texted Sam his email and the link and password to his online files, then slapped Sam’s shoulder. “Dude, this life is way too dangerous and short not to stop and enjoy the scenery. You need to get out there and try to catch something.” He grinned. “Just not something that requires antibiotics.”

Sam unconsciously stroked his lower lip with the pad of his thumb, smiling and asking, “Who said I’m not enjoying the scenery.” Warning bells rang in his head, and he was more than a little relieved when the bartender came back. He raised two fingers, ordering another round before picking up his own phone and texting his email information to Dean. “I should probably call it with this round. My record with liquor and you…” he stumbled a little on his words, “isn’t that great.”

“Can’t argue that,” Dean answered with a half a laugh. “So, how’s it gonna go down tonight, I wonder? First time I said no, second time you said no. Maybe we’ll shake hands, all the while imagining the ‘if only’?” He smirked. “At least the dreams’ll be vivid and fresh tonight.”

The guy was very direct, if anything. And too damned on point. He dragged his gaze away, only to wish he was still looking into those gorgeous greens. “The usual way. You take off to Texas, I go off to Florida.” He spun his glass around in his hand, contemplating it.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sam did look back, he found that Dean hadn’t looked away. He couldn’t cover his sharp inhale but did his best, by taking another drink. “So, do you line dance when you’re in Texas?” 

“This guy doesn’t dance. I don’t like attention and if I dance, I promise you, I make a spectacle of myself, usually by tripping over my own feet. Do you? Dance?” Dean asked, sipping his drink slowly. Once he finished it, he feared Sam would be on his way and he’d be left at the bar, with far too many regrets.

“With the right guy and the right amount of liquor?” Sam gave a half-shrug and a smile. “It’s happened.” He raised a finger. “You don’t like attention? Color me surprised. You’re kind of an attention magnet, but maybe you mean you don’t like attention from a crowd.” It still surprised him, because the guy was outgoing, unabashedly charming, and you didn’t really know what was gonna come out of his mouth next.

Dean touched his finger to his nose when Sam suggested it was a crowd’s attention he disliked. “If everyone is watching you, kinda hard to be watching them. And I do like… watching,” he said, giving Sam a sly smile indicating he wasn’t just talking about people-watching.

That look held a wealth of meaning and had Sam swallowing hard. The guy was right, it was gonna be a night of ‘what ifs’ and regrets. It would have been so much better if he could have held onto his anger and disappointment, but Dean had a way of disarming him. “I get that,” he said softly, wistfully. 

Getting up, Sam nodded to the back of the bar. “I’m gonna hit the head,” he said, leaving his almost finished drink. He brushed against Dean as he passed him, closing his eyes for a moment as unwanted images invaded his mind. He’d never been as desperate for someone as that night in their motel room. He remembered vividly how Dean felt, how he tasted, how he kissed. 

When Sam bumped up against him, Dean’s reaction was immediate. He tightened his jaw, gritting his teeth, and slowly turned to watch Sam retreat towards the bathroom. Was Sam trying to tempt him? Trying to ask him to follow? Hoping he wouldn’t? Hoping he would?

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered, tossed back the rest of his drink and finished off Sam’s, then headed to the restroom. If nothing else, he could use a good pissing, too. If something happened… he wouldn’t complain. If it didn’t, he’d have to ask Sam whether Sam still wanted him as much as he wanted Sam.

By the time the bathroom door opened again, Sam was at the sink, washing his hands. He’d lathered the soap, but suddenly slowed down when his eyes met Dean’s in the mirror. There was heat in the guy’s eyes, the same heat that Sam kept trying to deny in himself. He swallowed, then ran water over his hands, his eyes never pulling away from Dean’s. 

When Dean didn’t move, or say anything, Sam’s stomach tensed. Licking his lips, he knew he was unable to hide his desire. Shutting off the water, he grabbed a few paper towels and dried his hands, a question in his eyes as he finally turned around to directly meet Dean’s gaze.

“You gave me ideas when you brushed by me,” Dean said, his gaze drifting down Sam’s body and coming back up to meet Sam’s. “So I thought… might be a good idea to head back here myself.” He watched Sam, waiting to see if Sam gave any indication he was interested in anything, even if it was just making out and groping. He knew his pants were already tighter from just thinking about the last time they were together. 

“You thought…” Sam’s chest heaved with the possibilities. He wanted it. Wanted it bad. And Dean was standing right there, offering. Tempting. Right or wrong suddenly seemed unimportant.

Closing the distance between them, he grabbed Dean’s shirt with both hands and yanked him close, bringing his mouth down over Dean’s. There was no prelude, no soft persuasion. It was as if he picked up where they left off that night, kissing Dean hungrily, deeply, as he staggered backwards toward an empty stall.

Dean was caught a little off guard by Sam’s aggression, but as soon as Sam started dragging them toward a stall, Dean was certain Sam wasn’t going to bail in the middle this time. He gave back as good as he got, warring tongues with Sam, and working to get Sam’s jeans open as he tried to stifle his groans. Sam tasted so damned sweet. The heat, the need, the demand, the desire, all came pouring through to Dean and he wanted Sam so badly. “I’ve dreamed of being with you,” Dean murmured when they paused to suck in a breath. 

He shouldn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to. Talk complicated things. Made him start to split hairs. Did he mean the Dean part of him, or the Adam, or…

The pressure of Dean’s hands on the opening of his jeans was timely. Slammed by need, deep thought was impossible. “Then make it real,” Sam all but growled, maneuvering so he reversed their positions in the stall. He locked the door behind his back, then cupped Dean’s ass with both hands, dragging him up hard against his body. Grinding his arousal against Dean’s, he kissed him again, desperately, showing him how much he needed Dean. 

_Real._ His brain latched onto that word and the memories it brought with it. Adam’s memories of not feeling like a real person, just a copy. But right now, he felt real. Sam felt real. And Sam’s arousal pressing against him felt hella-real.

Dean kissed Sam back, taking over the kiss as he tugged Sam’s shirt open, and pulled the t-shirt up. He pressed against Sam, his hips moving and rocking and thrusting, matching the way his tongue rolled and thrust into Sam’s mouth. His hand brushed over hot flesh and he worked his hand up until he brushed over Sam’s nipple. He pinched and twisted and rubbed it, wanting to give Sam the motherlode of sexual sensations.

Every part of him assaulted by erotic sensations, Sam groaned into Dean’s mouth, grinding harder against him. They didn’t have time for this, not in a public bathroom, so it surprised him that Dean was taking the time to turn him on even more. He broke the kiss and blew out a hot breath, banging the back of his head against the door and barely feeling it. Running his hands roughly over Dean’s ass and back, he gave another low groan. 

“Dean… fuck…” Shoving Dean’s over-shirt out of the way, he started to undo his button. His gaze locked with Dean’s. “Fuck me like you’re made of steel,” he quoted, his eyes going dark. “I still want that.”

“I’m a cocky sonuvabitch, aren’t I?” Dean said back, his eyes dancing with a fire that Sam just turned into an inferno. 

He dreamed of more with Sam, of an all-night love and fuck fest. But they were in the men’s bathroom of a bar and would be discovered if they didn’t make this fast. As Sam undid Dean’s pants, Dean opened Sam’s and gave him a gratuitous grope once he’d unzipped him. His hand went to his own back pocket and dug out his wallet. He dipped his fingers into the wallet and pulled out the small packet of lube and a condom. “Unless you want bareback.” 

Sam was so hard he fucking hurt, and Dean’s question just made it worse. “Bareback,” he immediately chose, dragging Dean’s jeans and shorts partway down his thighs. His gaze dropped to Dean’s thick, hard cock, and he couldn’t help himself. He closed his fist around it and stroked. It was like moving his hand over silky satin sheathing steel. 

_No time. There was no time. This wasn’t the place._ And yet Sam dropped down onto the dirty floor and took Dean’s cock in his mouth, swallowing down every inch before moving his head up and down, giving him as much as he could in a short time.

Dean’s head fell back when Sam’s gigantor hand enclosed and slid along his cock. They’d need two nights, Dean decided, to really do everything they both want to do with each other. In his momentary daydream, he wasn’t prepared to have his cock suddenly swallowed down by Sam’s silky hot mouth. He’s knees weakened for a moment and his hand went to Sam’s shoulder to steady himself. 

“Holy shit,” came out of his mouth before he even realized it. His hips began to bounce and roll in response to Sam’s attentions and his gaze was locked on his cock disappearing into and reappearing between Sam’s wet lips.

Sam worked him hard, occasionally looking up to meet Dean’s gaze. He squeezed the base of his cock, and moved his hand down to his balls, each time he moved his mouth all the way down his shaft. He loved the guy’s reactions. They were perfectly matched in so many ways, and this was just another one of them. The way they anticipated each other’s moves, almost like they’d known each other forever, when they barely knew anything about each other. Anything but their darkest secrets.

He slowly pulled off Dean’s cock, giving it one last lick. Gripping Dean’s hips for support, he pulled himself up.

“That was the best fucking blow job I’ve ever had and I haven’t even come yet,” Dean said, breathing a little hard as he helped Sam to his feet. “Ah…. just thought you should know,” he added, feeling a little embarrassed and he didn’t have a clue why.

“I wanted to give you a little something to dream about, if you needed something later,” Sam answered breathlessly. His gaze dropped to Dean’s lips.

“For months, you already have. Now? Damn. Definitely have.” Dean crushed his lips against Sam’s, giving him a passionate kiss as he worked Sam’s pants down, exposing his ass. He opened the lube and squeezed some on his first two fingers, never letting up on kissing the man. He slid an unlubed finger down Sam’s crack until he felt that tightly puckered hole and shifted his fingers to spread the lube there. He pulsed and pressed against it, beginning to work some of the lube just inside, then went a little deeper as their kisses intensified.

The way Dean kissed him, distracted him as he gently worked him open, made Sam’s knees go weak. They might as well be in a motel room, or a hotel suite, because he forgot their surroundings. Groaning into Dean’s mouth, Sam groped him, then drew him closer, heat inching through his veins the instant their bare cocks rubbed. “God… Dean… Want. Want you inside me.” 

“Then turn around,” Dean said softly into his ear. He gave a little thrust against Sam, rubbing their cocks side-by-side one more time before helping Sam to turn. He helped Sam get situated, sliding up close between his legs, stroking his own cock and spreading lube down its length. Making certain Sam was braced on the structural part of the stall, he reached around and began groping and stroking along Sam’s length, distracting him as he positioned himself and began to nudge his glistening cock inside Sam. 

Hands pressing against the cold metal door, Sam dropped his head down and squeezed his eyes shut. The sensation of Dean’s fist moving over his cock had him thrusting, then holding his position. A burning ache spread through him as Dean pushed inside him. Sam’s knuckles whitened, but he made no complaint. This was what he wanted. To feel Dean, to know he was inside him, and to have something to remember this moment by in the days that came. Just as Dean sank all the way inside, he gave a low moan. “Knew you’d fill me up,” he whispered hoarsely, squeezing his muscles around Dean. 

“I’ll be as good as that pie in filling you up,” Dean whispered, moaning a bit as Sam tightened the sheath surrounding Dean’s cock. He simply closed his eyes and felt, caressing Sam’s own sizable cock, fingering his balls, letting his fingers drift over the abdominal muscles ridging Sam’s stomach.

Dean started slowly, rolling his hips, helping to stretch Sam just a bit more, then began slight in-and-out thrusts, letting the energy begin to build between them, letting his body react to finally being inside Sam after all this time and all his dreams.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered into Sam’s ear, kissing the shell of it as he began to let his body simply take over.

Loving the feel of Dean’s hot breath against his ear, Sam reached back with one hand, cupping the back of Dean’s hand. He shifted, so his weight was now braced by his forearm on the door. “Don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” he said, biting his lip at the slow, steady rhythm of Dean’s thrusts. He felt good, so good inside him. Fuck if he didn’t feel like he wanted this to last forever. “Harder,” he ground out, mostly to drown out the voice in his head. “Fuck me harder, Dean.” Pulling his hand back, he braced again, expecting Dean’s punishing thrusts. 

“Whatever you want, Baby,” Dean said and wrapped his arm tighter around Sam’s waist. He began to pull out further and thrust in deeper. He bent his knees and thrust harder and faster, giving Sam exactly everything he wanted while his own needs and desires skyrocketed as he felt himself grow closer to the edge. Sam was as perfect as he knew he’d be.

“Yeah… fuck… yeah…” Sam managed between broken exhales and grunts. It was everything he’d wanted. Not just some half-measured fuck. Dean put everything into it, and they were in perfect sync. Sam pushing back, Dean bodily shoving him forward. It ached so damned good. And each time Dean got him just right, Sam groaned, heat pulsing through his body. “Good… so good, Dean,” he whispered thickly. He was getting wound tighter and tighter. His balls pulled tight against his body. “‘M… gonna come soon,” he warned.

Dean gasped and panted as he worked harder and harder, re-angling a little to make certain he was giving Sam as much stimulation and pleasure as he could. “Then… come…” Dean said, feeling his own balls growing tighter. He pushed himself to his limit until he knew he just couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t wait until he’d brought Sam over. “Now Sammy!” he groaned as he pistoned in and out, emptying himself fully into Sam and the orgasm ripped through his every fiber. 

Sammy. God, how could _that_ push him over the edge? But it did. It sent Sam spiraling toward a white-hot light, his entire body pulsating with pleasure. He pushed back against the door, jamming himself against his lover, and calling out his name. He dropped his head back, on Dean’s shoulder as he gasped for air, uncaring of the fact that the guy’s hot cum was spilling down his legs. 

Dean slowly ran his hand over Sam’s stomach and chest as he twisted his head and planted a kiss on Sam’s temple. “More perfect than I could have imagined,” he said. He wished again they were in a motel and could relocate to a bed to curl up together for a bit.

But they weren’t. They were in the men’s restroom of a bar, they’d been making enough noise to draw attention, and they probably ought to move their asses before the bouncer showed up or something.

Dean heaved a sigh. “We better beat it--I mean get the hell out before we’re chased out. I’m not trying to cut this short, but practicality says we should.” He tightened his arms around Sam for a moment then slowly pulled out of his lover and released him. He handed Sam a roll of toilet paper and got to work getting himself repacked in his jeans.

Sam’s mind was still spinning, his breaths labored, but he grabbed the roll and managed a “yeah.” He cleaned himself off, and tossed the paper into the toilet behind Dean, in the process, leaning against him. Lifting his face, he gave him a smile, then kissed him, his hands slipping between their bodies to pull up his own pants and zip them. His movements made him jerk away from Dean’s mouth a few times, but then he closed his arms around the guy and gave him one last, hard kiss. 

“Let’s not get arrested,” Dean said, unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out, just as two men, one of them a bouncer, walked in. “Evening,” Sam said, giving the men a nod, and going to the sink. “My friend got sick. Can’t hold his liquor,” he said, washing his hands.

Dean suddenly put his hand over his mouth and turned back towards the toilet and made sounds of upchucking as he hit flush. “Oh god Sam, I think I’m coming again!” he said and made more sounds. “Dammit I told you that shit had shellfish in it!” He gave an almost obscene groan, then opened the stall door and staggered out.

“Sorry. Least Sammy made sure it all hit the shitter,” Dean said, looking positively ill. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands and face, giving Sam a fleeting smirk as Sam gave him a covert glare of daggers. After drying his hands, he groaned again. “C’mon Sammy, help me out of this place.” 

As soon as they walked out of there, Sam leaned over to Dean’s ear. “‘I’m coming?’ Talk about overdoing it, jerk.” He knew damn well that that performance had been for his pleasure, not for that of the men who’d walked in. 

“That’s what you get for being a red-headed woman, bitch,” Dean whispered back at him, pleased as hell that if Sam was going to lay it all on him, he was going to play it to the max. As soon as they stepped outside Dean began laughing. “Come on, the looks on their faces were priceless. Admit it. That was damned funny.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but laughter soon followed. He’d come into the bar in a bad mood but was in one helluva good one when he got his ass in his car. Yeah, he still had a few regrets, but not the ones Dean had outlined, and that was good enough for him.

***

Nothing was more boring that sitting on a stakeout by yourself in the middle of BFE. Dean didn’t even want to risk having his music on, in case the Chupacabra heard it. He pulled out his phone to check email, but nothing but porn spam came up. After scrubbing his face to keep awake and drinking down some more coffee, he suddenly grinned.

Sticking his phone down his pants, he took a picture and then texted it to Sam with a ‘thinking of you’ message.

Sam had just showered off all the vamp blood, and only had a towel around his waist, when he heard the text message come through. He padded to the table and picked up his cell. His eyes widened at the dark image, but he could just make out what it was. Laughing, he went to sit on the bed.

 _So you think with your downstairs brain?_ he typed out. This wasn’t something he often did, but he took a picture of himself, bare chested, and water still clinging to his hair. _Some food for thought._

Dean was delighted that Sam was up and answered. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the look he imagined was probably on Sam’s face when he got the text and picture.

When he saw the picture Sam sent him, he just stared at it a minute and exhaled slowly. _Now I am._ he sent back, unbuckled the top button on his jeans and lifted his shirt, taking another picture and sent it.

Staring at his phone, Sam felt like he’d just taken a slam to his stomach. He took a couple shallow breaths and found he couldn’t look away. _Dude, you sure you’re not an underwear or jeans model?_ Sam licked his lips and scrolled back to the picture. It definitely sent the blood surging to his cock. _I was going to sleep. I think you just made that impossible. Jerk._

Dean laughed silently, utterly gleeful. _U want me to jerk off? Really?_ Now he took a picture of his hand and a half-unzipped jeans zipper.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Sam started at the picture. He could just imagine Dean’s hand moving up and down his shaft as Sam watched. Or Dean jerking him off, yeah… 

He loosened his towel, so only one layer was over him, and you could clearly make out the hard line of his cock under the material. Pulling the towel a little lower, he took a picture. Heat flooded his cheeks, but he sent it. _Look what you do to me._

A moment later, he sent another message. _Where are you. If you’re within a hundred miles, I’ll take you up on your offer._

Dean stared at the picture and licked his lips, momentarily toying with sliding his hand inside his pants and doing exactly what Sam had suggested. Jerking off. He opened the next message and sighed. _In BFE Tex watching for cabra. Stakeout. Did you see doc about ur vamps?_

 _Is that what you gave me?_ Sam laughed. He pulled his legs up on the bed, then rolled over onto his stomach. Unconsciously grinding against the mattress, he scrolled through his contacts and phoned Dean. “So you’re bored and thought it would be a good idea to torture me?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

Dean was more than a little surprised when Sam called him. “In most of Texas you kind of have to make your own entertainment. Were there vamps in Florida?” Dean asked quietly, leaning back, but keeping his eyes on his surroundings. If the Chupacabra heard him, it heard him.

“Yeah. But there aren’t anymore,” Sam answered, looking across the room where he’d put the machete down. “Signs of Chupacabra in Texas?”

“Either that or it’s a vampiric coyote with mange,” Dean said. “I’ve got its range narrowed down, found its spore so know the paths it’s running. Within the next few nights where I’m sitting is a pretty damned good bet of where it’ll be. Told the locals to be sure to keep their kids in after dark for the next few days. It’s definitely moved up to the other, _other_ white meat, and it likes ‘em young, though it still hasn’t killed them. Mauled, drank some of their blood then bolted. It’s an odd one.” Dean took the opportunity to zip up and rebutton his pants. If the Chupacabra showed tonight, he’d feel damned foolish if he went after it only to have his pants fall.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all under control.” Sam ran a hand over his face. “Just be careful. When anything makes that jump, it’s at its most dangerous. You know?” He let out a sigh. “So if I were to head your way--”

“I’d wait on you, even if I finished the hunt,” Dean interrupted. He tried hard to keep the hope out of his voice. In his head, a voice told him he shouldn’t get involved with a demon’s blood kid, but Sam was the first person he’d ever dreamed about, or at least, dreamed about more than once. He wanted this, wanted Sam, wanted a partner who knew him for who he was.

It was the answer Sam had dreaded and yearned for. It made his heart race, it made him think of running towards a light, towards comfort, when so much around him was black. He licked his lips. “All right. I’ll call you when I’m close,” he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. His thumb moved over the screen to shut the phone off, then he set his head down on the pillow. What was he doing?

* * * 

Sam took off early the next morning and drove through part of the night. The entire way, he questioned whether he was doing the right thing. At some point, it wasn’t about being with a shifter anymore. It was about not knowing what the hell was going on with himself and drawing someone else into it. Or so he told himself.

Bottom line though? He wanted this to work out, but he was deathly afraid it wouldn’t.

*

Sam sat at the table, eating his burger and reviewing Dean’s newest journal entries. Something about his findings were bothering him. He scrolled back and started from the beginning, sifting through the facts, and doing some research. 

Concluding Dean was wrong, he dropped the rest of the burger and wiped his hands. Immediately calling Dean, he cursed when he got his voice mail. He left a message and headed straight for his car. Sure, he’d been planning on getting a few hours’ sleep, but this was important.

*

Nothing had happened that first night and when he went out to walk the animal trails in the morning, he found tracks of the Chupacabra. Running his fingers lightly over them, he shook his head. Sure, this was his first Chupacabra but the tracks were bigger than he thought they’d be. He took a couple pictures of the prints. Yeah, his gut said there was something weird about this thing, but he couldn’t nail down what the hell it was. The ‘cabra had come near, stopped, then circled back and around. Sonuvabitch. The thing must have caught wind of him, or there had been some sounds of gunfire around two that turned out to be some drunken idiot. Maybe that was it. Regardless, it meant another night sitting and waiting.

Following the tracks further he found the remains of a small mule deer, but it was obvious if the ‘cabra killed it, something else had finished the job. He gave a sigh and returned to his motel to clock some sleep.

Dean headed back out the next night. This time he parked the Impala further away and took up a lookout spot on some rocks that covered his back well and gave him a good view of the house and barn. The moon was full, so light was good and angled so as to keep him in the shadows of the rock pile.

He’d drank some energy drink to help keep him awake because he didn’t want the smell of coffee wafting from his location, giving him away.

It was almost 3 AM, the moon was getting close to setting, and his energy drink had worn off. Dammit. This hunt was turning out to be a bigger pain in the ass than he’d expected. Chupacabras weren’t that damned smart to begin with. But then he heard it, something definitely headed his way. He readied his machete, gripping it tighter. A simple beheading and it would all be over. 

Sam walked quietly, checking his smart phone which he was using to track Dean. He glanced over at the pile of rocks and decided that’s where he was, so he headed over. As he neared the rocks, he tensed a little, then whispered, “It’s me, Sam, comin’ at you.” 

Crouching a little and clinging to the shadows, he searched for Dean.

Dean froze a moment, then straightened. “Sam!” he whispered back and raised his hand. “Here. I’m here.” He finally spotted Sam and waved at him to join him behind the rocks. 

“Hey,” he joined Dean and slapped him lightly on the back, keeping his hand on him. “Is it in the barn?” he asked, his gaze darting to the structure, then back to Dean.

Dean shook his head. “Haven’t seen the SOB yet. It travels the animal trails from place to place,” he whispered. “It’s taken this trail,” he pointed to the faint, narrow dirt path passing near the boulders, “pretty regularly over the past week or two. Until I decided to stake it out, apparently.”

“It’s not a Chupacabra, Dean,” Sam whispered. “I went through all your notes and I think it’s a Hycana.” As he rattled off his reasoning, he dug through the small pack he’d brought with him. Pulling out a glove that he’d used when acting as a construction worker, he slapped it against Dean’s chest and gave him a look. “Put this on. You’re gonna need a silver dagger for this, right through its heart, or it’s not dying.” 

“What?” he asked, staring at Sam and then at the glove, as his mind sifted through everything Sam had just recounted. “Sonuvabitch. I owe you a steak dinner and your choice of dessert. Why’d you ask me if it was in the barn? Did you see something?” he asked as he pulled on the glove.

He nodded. “Vision. It was in the barn but then I saw some kids on bicycles riding up to the back of the house. So if that thing has moved into the house, we’ve got to haul ass.” He grinned. “And I’ll take you up on dinner, I want a real date this time.” Grabbing the daggers, he held one out to Dean. “Just be careful, you know how shifters are, wily creatures.” Brushing his mouth across Dean’s, he started to head toward the house and barn. 

Dean just stared at Sam for a moment as he took the offered dagger. _Shifters… wily creatures… real date… kissing…_ He shook himself out of his reverie and chased after Sam. “So you’re okay with… who I am? All parts of me?” he whispered as they slunk across the landscape.

“Some parts more than others,” Sam smirked, slapping his hand over Dean’s cock for a second. “Yeah, I’m okay with who you are. I like who you are, and I’m tired of fighting it,” he said. “Plus no one’s answered the ad I have in the personals. Looking for a hunting partner who’ll keep me from brooding, add a bit of fun in my life, and maybe, just maybe, keep me from going dark side. And if that’s too much for you, then I’m okay with the occasional hook up,” he said. This was so not the time to talk about this. 

“Damn, you’re frisky. I like it. And it’s not too much for me,” Dean said, meeting Sam’s gaze with heat in his own, a smile coming to his lips. 

Hearing sounds coming from the house they glanced at each other then took off at a dead run. Time to nail a hycana bastard. 

* * * 

After taking care of the hycana and salting and burning the body, both men headed back to Dean’s motel to get some sleep. Sam had been up for over twenty-four hours by that time. Dean only had a single bed in the room, but he didn’t figure it would be a problem. As soon as Sam got under the covers Dean spooned up behind him, kissed him on the back of the neck, and promptly fell asleep.

Dean did the breakfast run that morning since Sam was still out cold. Once Sam woke, they began catching each other up on the past couple days since they’d gone their own way. That talk soon turned into talk of other adventures, and they spent a lazy day together, swimming in the motel pool, going to a nearby park for a picnic of fast food, even playing some frisbee. They held hands sometimes, or brushed their lips across the other’s in light kisses. It went unspoken between them that neither wanted to get hot and heavy just yet. It was a day to relax and enjoy each other’s company. Something neither of them got to do very often.

As promised, Dean took Sam to a little steak house in the small town and before Dean knew what was happening, Sam dragged him out to join in some line dancing and two-stepping.

Dean was still laughing when they got back to their table. “I _told_ you I have two left feet.”

“And I told you, I’d catch you if you stumbled.” Sam grinned, running a hand over Dean’s face, then sitting down. “I think we need to get you a cowboy hat and boots. Or just chaps, bet you’d wear them well.” Reaching for his beer, he took a swig. He hadn’t had this much fun in forever, and that made the long ass drive well worth it.

Dean held up his hand. “No way. I don’t do those sorts of chaps. Cowboy boots… like Dr Sexy MD? Yeah, that’d be cool. And maybe a cowboy hat like Clint Eastwood.” He grinned at Sam. “You’re a good dancer. If you wanted to dance another couple songs, I’m good with that, but the Winchester boy is taking a break from making a fool of himself. Should we get more beer or pay the tab?”

“Seriously?” That had Sam grinning again, cause he knew it wasn’t something Dean was into. But if he’d had a good time because it was with Sam, that was something. “I’ll take you up on that some other time,” he promised. “Let’s get the tab, I think I’m starting to get hungry for my dessert.” 

Dean smirked. “I’m guessing it’s not something they have on the menu here.”

“It starts with a D.” Sam smirked back. 

After waving down their server and taking care of the bill, Dean drove them back toward the motel. “Normally I’d suggest a bit of fresh air, sitting out in the middle of nowhere and making out for a while but I keep thinking back to that bar, and while we were having our fun in the bathroom, I remember how much I didn’t want to rush or get interrupted, and how much better it would have been in a bed.” Dean reached over and rested his hand on Sam’s thigh, dragging his fingers up and down the firm muscles. “But you’re ordering dessert. What did you want? Dessert Dean with a single backseat of the Impala? Or ride ‘em cowboy at the motel? Or something else entirely?”

Sam looked over at him, then threw his head back and laughed. “You did _not_ just say ride ‘em cowboy…” He looked out the window for a moment, then returned his gaze to Dean. “I think I can handle a little fresh air in the middle of nowhere, and then take you back to the motel. I don’t want to rush either, but we won’t have to,” he promised. He’d wanted to touch or kiss Dean a number of times, but it wouldn’t have gone over well where they’d been. “So let’s stop and watch the stars for as long as we can.”

Dean gave Sam’s thigh a slap. “I know just the place,” he said and made a turnoff in the center of the town. “It’s about 20 minutes, but you’ll like it, I promise,” he said, stepping on the gas as he headed for some nearby hills. He slipped a tape in. “Hope you like classic rock?” 

“Classic rock? I took you more as a pop lover,” he teased, settling back. 

Time passed quickly, as it seemed to whenever he was with this man. When Dean stopped the car, Sam could see exactly why he liked the spot. It was in the foothills, but high enough up where they had a great view of the lights twinkling in town, and when they looked up, it was nothing but stars in the clear skies. 

Getting out of the car, Sam looked over the top at Dean and gave a nod. “Perfect.” 

Dean got in the trunk and pulled out an old military blanket, then shone a light around, checking for snakes or scorpions. Satisfied, he spread the blanket out. “Dad and I used to camp out a lot. If we didn’t have much money, we could always camp and get a pack of hotdogs to cook over a campfire. He used to tell me about his time in the Marines and taught me about the stars and constellations.”

He settled on the blanket and waved Sam to join him. “You? You camp with your mom?”

“Yeah, but not for fun. It was usually because a hunt took us to places where there were no motels. I used to pretend we were vacationing, though.” He chuckled, sitting down on the blanket and lowering himself so he was on his elbows, looking up at the sky. “Maybe we can do that sometime, go camping. Like at a real campground.” 

“Campgrounds have rules and neighbors and they charge you. Course they have water and bathrooms and showers sometimes, too,” Dean said, leaning back and mimicking Sam’s position. “But hell, I’m game. Especially if there’s good fishing nearby. And we didn’t do it for fun. We did it cause we didn’t have any money for a motel. Dad just tried to distract me from that with the hotdogs and stories and stuff.”

Sam nodded. A lot of hunters were in that position. There would be times when cash was more available, and times when their pockets were dry. You couldn’t always be involved in credit card schemes or you’d get caught. “Sometimes I try to make up for some of the things I missed out on, but usually it backfires. I made a s’more and….” Sam made a face expressing his disgust. “Have you ever actually tasted one? It’s like sugar covered with sugar. Dude, I’m glad our camping never included that.”

Dean laughed. “Obviously you didn’t do it right. You can’t just grab any chocolate bar or marshmallows or graham crackers. And the marshmallow has to be properly browned over an open fire on a wooden stick.” He glanced over at Sam. “I didn’t get that from my dad but a juvie camp I went to. Camping, team-building, up early, work your ass off or run you or make you hike. Kind of a boot camp for mini-me soldiers. But the campfires at night were usually pretty fun.” Dean pointed at a shooting star. “Make a wish.”

“I don’t believe in--” He closed his eyes and made a wish with all of his heart. Then he opened them. “Did you make one?”

“Pretty much got mine happening right now,” Dean said, laying back on the blanket and looking up at Sam. “Why don’t you lean down and kiss me?”


	5. Chapter 5

Turning onto his side, Sam cupped the side of Dean’s face and brushed his mouth over Dean’s. Then again. And a third time, before pressing his mouth firmly over Dean’s and giving him a real kiss. 

When he broke the kiss, his mouth was still only a few inches away from Dean’s. “The stars? I thought you were gonna tell me about them, not make me see them.” 

“The stars are full of hot gas and burn. There’s your astronomy lesson. Now let me try to make you see some more interesting stars,” Dean breathed, leaning up just enough to capture Sam’s lips while his arm wrapped around Sam’s neck and pulled him closer. Their kiss was intense but Dean still insisted on taking his time, just teasing his way into Sam’s mouth or sucking on Sam’s tongue then nibbling on his lip. “What was your wish?”

Sam gave a soft sound of satisfaction and parted his lips again when Dean asked his question. “Thought the rules were you don’t tell.” Dipping his head down, he feathered kisses along Dean’s temple and cheek bone, then moved on to trace the hard line of his jaw. Occasionally, he’d allow their mouths to touch, but resisted the urge to kiss Dean again. 

“It’s a lot easier to help make your wish come true if I know what it is,” Dean said. He was content to lay there, letting Sam kiss and tease him. “This is nice. Just so you know.”

“I just…” Sam brushed Dean’s hair back. “I just want this to last more than a night, or a couple days. That’s all,” he said softly, kissing Dean again so the guy wouldn’t think he had to respond. His mouth moved over Dean’s, his tongue tangling with the guy’s, giving him a taste of what he wanted, not just for now, but for as long as possible. 

Dean enjoyed tangling tongues with Sam and appreciated the out Sam was giving him, allowing him the chance to think without pressure. He finally broke off the kiss. “Sam… Sammy, I’m not against it, but I think… let’s ease into it. We have both worked alone for so long that to suddenly be in each other’s business 24/7 will be hard for both of us. Let’s work the next job together. Then let’s take a job apart. We can talk with each other every day.” Dean ran his fingers along Sam’s cheek. “I just don’t want us finding ourselves resenting each other simply because we’re not used to being with someone else all the time, telling someone where we’re going to be every minute. After the job apart, we’ll get back together for a job and see how we’re doing. I don’t want to screw this up with you because we go to extremes if we’re not ready. What do you think?” Dean asked, hoping what he was saying made sense to Sam.

Sam turned his face toward Dean’s hand on his cheek, listening to him. “I think I’m making you anxious about this, and I don’t mean to.” He licked his lips. “I’m not asking for your forever.” He didn’t even think he had a ‘forever’ to offer, because something was going to go down with the demon kids, something that was drawing closer. “And I don’t want to know what you’re doing every minute of the day. I like a good mystery. So gimme a week. We’re between jobs, or if you want to head into a new one, that’s fine. We can do that. Just, stop looking so serious,” he said, worried he’d messed this up already.

Dean smiled and gave a soft huff. “You idiot. I _want_ to give you my forever. Or at least, however long we both live. But I’m a pain in the ass and I know it. Being around me 24/7 will scare you the hell away. I’m bossy and stubborn and listen to the same five tapes over and over, and wait until you hear me sing along with them. I just want to give us time to get to know each other before jumping in headfirst.” He kissed Sam lightly. “If you just want this to be an on-again, off-again thing, okay, but tell me now so we’re both on the same page with the same intentions.” His face grew serious. “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I? Maybe I should just shut up and kiss you.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Sam said. “Why don’t we freak each other out some other time?” He kissed Dean again. He wanted ‘for the rest of his life,’ whatever that meant. And that’s how he kissed Dean, with everything he had in his heart, loving him with his mouth, with his hands, exploring Dean’s body.

Laughing at himself and agreeing with Sam, he just put it all out of his mind. Hell, what happened, happened. Sam wanted a week off from the world, Dean was good with that. Course the way Sam kissed him seemed a whole lot more intense than a weeklong fling. He told himself to stop thinking so damned much and enjoy.

He ran his hand along Sam’s side then slipped his hand down to lightly grope Sam, kissing him back and giving as good as he got.

“Mmhm,” Sam groaned, deepening the kiss. Dean seemed to know exactly what he needed, how to touch him, and made his head reel. Rolling partially on top of Dean, he kissed his neck, his hand moving over Dean’s side and chest, then down to his hip. He raised his head and looked down at Dean bathed in the moonlight. “Star gazing is… hot,” he laughed, then brought his mouth down over Dean’s again, starting another long, hot kissing session.

“Never knew I was a nerd,” Dean murmured back. With Sam more or less on top of him, Dean had a much easier time reaching all the tantalizing places he wanted to. He slapped a hand down on Sam’s ass, squeezing and kneading his fingers into the taut muscles then slid his hand partway down Sam’s thigh. His other hand traced ridges of muscles along Sam’s back, then dove under the shirt so his hand was on bare skin. “You’re the one who’s hot,” he whispered in Sam’s ear then took his turn laying a mark on Sam’s neck.

Sam’s eyes closed as Dean sucked on the sensitive skin of his neck, sending heat skittering throughout his entire body. “And you must be temptation on legs, cause dude, I don’t… in fields, and bathrooms, or texts… I guess I do now.” He changed his tune and kissed Dean again. His hand searched for the hem of Dean’s shirt, then he was pushing the material aside, his calloused palm roving over skin stretched taut over muscle. The things Dean made Sam think about, if he told him the half of it, the guy would probably think Sam was nuts.

“If you wanna wait for the motel… it’s twenty minutes away,” Dean breathed, his muscles rippling in response to Sam’s touch. He couldn’t help himself and upped the stakes, bringing his hand around under Sam’s shirt and searching until his fingers brushed over Sam’s nipple. The response was immediate, Sam’s nipple tightening even with his lightest of touches and he gave a soft moan of approval.

Sam gave another low moan. “I dunno, is this gonna be a _thing_?” He ground his hips against Dean’s, then looked down as he pushed Dean’s shirt up. “How about we take each other to the edge, then drive to the motel and finish up?” He wasn’t certain if he could do that with Dean, but the thought of a twenty-five-minute drive while hard had him groaning. They’d calm down just enough that it would almost be like starting over.

“I can’t decide if you’re a masochist or a sadist or both,” Dean said with a bark of laughter. “You’re on, macho man.” Without hesitation Dean scraped his fingers down Sam’s chest and slid his hand right down to Sam’s groin. “Mmm, baby, I’m gonna bring you to the razor’s edge. I’m going to put more thoughts in your head than you can even imagine. Like blowing you while you’re rimming me. Like you sliding up and down my pole like the hottest new babe at the strip club.”

“Fuckkkk,” Sam rubbed himself against Dean’s palm, his cock completely hard. “You’re a goddamn tease, you know that, with your looks, and the licking, and the texted pictures and… unh.” Lowering his mouth, he kissed Dean, his tongue weaving in and out of the hunter’s mouth, forcing him to give chase. His temple pounded, the thoughts Dean put in his head torturing him like crazy.

He straddled Dean’s thighs, peeled off his own shirt and started to unbutton Dean’s over-shirt. His eyes narrowed as he thought about the things that were important to Dean. “One day, I’ll let you bend me over and fuck me, on the hood of your car, classic rock blaring around us, the car bouncing under us… just not today,” he said thickly. 

The thought of Sam’s big hands on his baby, his baby rocking as he fucked Sam’s lights out to the pounding beat of his music, had Dean hard and hurting in an instance. “Sonuvabitch,” he muttered, arching under Sam’s weight. “Bastard. Points for accuracy.”

He couldn’t let Sam win the round. “One day, I’ll be in leather for you. Leather pants so tight you can see my dick even before I’m hard. Leather straps across my chest that’s glistening with sweat. I’ll pull my cock out and stroke it, talking dirty to you as I get harder and harder, promising to make all your wildest dreams a reality. Would you like that?” Dean asked Sam, each hand at Sam’s nipples as he teased and toyed with them, loving the expressions that rippled over Sam’s face.

“I keep telling you, I don’t do this stuff…. and…” Sam clenched his jaw against the images invading his mind, and looking intently at Dean, imagined him in leather. “Fuck… you make it sound so damned hot… I want it.” He grit out his admission. 

Dipping his head down, he nipped a spot next to Dean’s nipple, then licked it better. He feathered open mouthed kisses along Dean’s chest, and moved slowly to his navel and abs, scooting a little back on Dean’s legs. “You remember the almost blow job I gave you in the bathroom?” he asked, mouthing Dean over his jeans, using his lips to trace the outline of his cock. 

“Nnghhh…” Dean groaned, his hips bouncing up just a little in response. “Every night when I close my eyes. Still the best damned blow job I’ve ever had, I swear,” he confessed. “What--what’s your favorite fantasy with me?”

“You give me so many damned fantasies…” If he told Dean he often fantasized about using his powers to immobilize Dean until he had him hard and horny, it wouldn’t go over well. “You’re the stuff of my fantasies,” he said thickly, replacing his mouth with his hand on Dean’s groin, squeezing him. “Here’s one. I’m on a hunt. I find you staked out over some sort of altar. There are candles all around. You’re not wearing a stitch of clothing, but you have a gag in your mouth. I walk over, I’m gonna set you free. You’re shaking your head, but I can’t understand what you’re trying to say. By the time I get the gag out, it’s too late. I have to have you, and I don’t care that you tell me it’s just a spell.” 

“Mmm...bondage fantasies,” Dean said, his eyes half-closed as Sam squeezed his cock. “I like. I wouldn’t mind you standing, naked, red silk scarf around your eyes, your wrists bound together…” Dean took a deep breath. “Dammit. You win I think,” he said, his cock growing painfully hard as he imagined Sam like that.

“Oh God, I want that,” Sam groaned, dropping down over Dean to grind against him a few times. “Time to go?” he asked, letting out a hot breath, and wondering if he could hold it together for just a little longer.

“Time to go or time to come,” Dean said. “You’re choice.”

Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck and groaned, thrusting a few more times, then he abruptly rolled off. Getting to his feet, he put his hand out for Dean. “Come.” He rolled his eyes at his choice of words.

Dean gave a pain-filled laugh. “I’m guessing we’re going.” He took Sam’s hand, grabbing the blanket and giving it a good shake to rid it of any unwelcome guests. He paused and looked up at the sky. “Look, the Milky Way.” 

“Now, you want to stargaze,” Sam huffed, though he looked up to where Dean was pointing. “Next time, we’ll need to have ten feet between us. Or, I have a feeling, we’ll never get any camping or stargazing done.”

Moving behind Dean, he closed his arms around his waist and pressed against his ass, kissing the side of his neck. “Better go, before I come,” he chuckled, slowly nudging Dean into walking toward the car.

* * * 

They hung out for a week, mostly kicking back, or updating their online hunting journals and looking for cases. Sam openly admitted it was the best time he’d ever had. But when two jobs came up at about the same time, he was the one to suggest they go their separate ways to handle them.

Watching the Impala take off was one of the hardest things he’d done. His smile fell away the moment the car pulled into the street. Taking a deep breath, he dropped the last of his bags into his trunk and closed it, then got into the driver’s seat. 

* * *

Dean had felt lonely before--what hunter who worked alone hadn’t? That’s why a lot of hunters were one-night standers, just so they didn’t have to go to bed alone. Didn’t matter who the other person was, so long as it was someone warm, willing and human. Dean winced. Yeah. Human. Something he wasn’t, no matter how hard he tried. His reaction to silver would always remind him of that.

He didn’t used to dwell on these things, didn’t let them circle around and around and around in his head like they’d been doing, ever since he and Sam parted ways. It had only been ten days and he felt like he was in mourning. Didn’t matter that they texted each other constantly and tried to Skype once a day unless they were waist deep in it.

This just fucking sucked.

Dean pulled out his phone and after hesitating, dialed the only person he could think of to talk about things like this. The guy who had been like a father to both Adam and Dean.

“Bobby, you got a minute?” Dean asked quietly.

There was a bit of a silence. It always took Bobby a moment to realize he was speaking with both Dean and Adam at the same time, and it was still damned hard to decide what to call the boy. “Son, you know what time it is? This better be good,” he said gruffly. 

Dean glanced at his watch. “Ah, no, I didn’t realize...sorry. It’s not important. Sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow at a decent hour.” He knew he wouldn’t though. It was tough enough to get up the nerve to call Bobby now.

“I’m up now, and if you don’t tell me what it is you need, I’m going to be up the rest of the night.” Bobby paused. “Go on boy, you know better’n to mind my bark.”

“Uh...yeah. I, ah, I was wondering...how do you know if...if you’ve found _The One_. I don’t know if I believe in that shit. Part of me wants to, part of me does and… and do shifters like me get a happily ever after even if it’s real?” Dean’s voice wavered from strong and gruff to innocent and young as he struggled with his thoughts and tried to express them without sounding like a complete idiot.

Bobby scrunched his face up as he tried to make sense of the questions, then he ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath. “To my way of thinking, you either know it or ya don’t, but I ain’t no love guru or nothing.” He paused. “If you’re talking another shifter, then be careful. I ain’t going to lie to you, most of them ain’t nothing like you. And if you’re talking human, then it’s got to get complicated, what with you being a shifter. It’s easy to keep a secret for a night or two, but long term… You may be buying yourself a shitload of trouble.”

“They already know I’m a shifter,” Dean said quietly. “I know…” he took a deep breath. “I know the.. The… _real_ Dean only liked women but, I’m--well, that’s one place we sort of differed that didn’t quite get lost with the imprint of his mind. I like guys. And I think… I think I’m in love with Sam Wesson, the hunter.” He bit his lower lip waiting for Bobby to yell at him or even just hang up on him. Not only was it a hunter he was crazy over, but one of the demon’s blood-kids.

“Holy shit, boy, are you telling me you let him catch on to what you are?” Bobby practically came off the lazy boy, tossing his blanket off. “Are you out of you mind? You’d better be sleeping with one eye open, and not only because he’s a hunter. You were supposed to be investigating him, not his… his, balls!” Feeling his face go up in flame, he added, “that ain’t no pun.”

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear when Bobby all but exploded. He smirked at his friend’s unintentional play on words, then grew serious again. “Bobby, I know. He… he found out a while back. He handed me a silver knife--and I know dammit. I fucked up. But he knows I know about the blood, so we agreed to keep our mouths shut about each other. And he has. Then we ran into each other a couple weeks ago and… we got… intimate… spent a week together, and now I can’t stop thinking about him.” He exhaled and scrubbed his face. “He was in love--or in lust--with Dean from years back. So I dunno, maybe he just likes what he sees. Does love always make your brain go into overdrive?”

“Makes everything go into overdrive.” The hunter sighed. “I don’t like you getting mixed up with him, least until we see how he turns out and what Azazel's end game is. You’re not indestructible, and if there are feelings involved,” Bobby shook his head. “Stay away from him. I’ll have another hunter keep tabs on him.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “I--we… we talk every day, Bobby. Text all day long. Skype every day if we can. If I just… stop, I’ll lose him.” Dean’s voice grew firmer as he found a strength that surprised him. He’d always obeyed Bobby without question, like the original Dean had obeyed his own father. “I’m not willing to do that. I’m not just going to give him up to Azazel. He’s mine and I’m keeping him.”

“I said I’d have another hunter on his tail, I didn’t say nothing about giving up on him. But you’re too involved, Dean, and you know it. The way you feel, you won’t be able to do what needs doing. So if you want to keep talking to him on the phone, you do that. But stay away from him. You called for advice, I just gave it to you.” He sat back. “I’ll call Gordon. He’s got good instincts.”

“If it’s him or the world,” Dean said, “I’ll choose the world. I’ll do what I have to. I swore I would, and I will. I wouldn’t disgrace the name of Dean Winchester and you know it.” How could Bobby think he would put his own feelings before the job? “But I can’t promise I’ll stay away from him. I understand if you have to send someone else to keep an eye on him. Just keep in mind… they may find out about me, too.” He didn’t say it as a threat. They both knew what was potentially at stake here. He was only pointing out to Bobby that if a hunter with ‘good instincts’ was watching Sam, and by default Dean if Dean was with Sam, he might realize Dean wasn’t human. But that was always a risk around other hunters.

“Just don’t let your balls rule your mind, and that wasn’t no pun either.” Bobby shut the phone and held the device against his chin for a long time as he thought.

Dean looked at the phone, seeing that Bobby had ended the call. He sighed, wondering if he’d only made things worse. He should have gone with his own credo. Keep your mouth shut. Always. After staring at the phone for another minute, he sent a text to Sam. It simply said “miss you” then he turned his attention back to the stakeout and drank some more coffee.

***

They talked in one form or another every day, but when Dean passed up the chance to meet up once they’d both gotten their jobs done, Sam started to doubt a lot of things. Maybe Dean wasn’t as into this relationship, or he really was afraid of commitment. 

Sometimes the texts from Dean made him feel better. Made him question his questions about why they hadn’t met up. Dean’s insistence on skyping also went a long way to making Sam feel a little more secure that the guy was really interested. I mean why else would he find the time to just talk?

While he had a job to do, a hunt to complete, it was easy to push away the doubts and questions. But when he was all done, and called Dean offering to help him, he was on the receiving end of a bullshit excuse for why he shouldn’t join Dean. “I see. I gotta go,” he told Dean tightly, flicking the phone off, and tossing it onto his empty bed.

Pulling his jacket on, he walked out of the room and headed for the closest bar. 

* * * 

Dean kept checking his phone for texts from Sam. He was just so close to finishing up the case by the time Sam got there, he’d be leaving anyhow. That’s what he told himself even though a part of him knew he was following Bobby’s ‘advice’ and keeping his distance from Sam until he got himself a little under control. If push came to shove, he did need to be able to do whatever had to be done.

He texted Sam repeatedly that evening. Some were funny texts. Some were serious texts. Some were apologetic and others were pictures ranging from the mundane to x-rated. At their normal Skype ‘date’ time, Sam didn’t even show. Dammit, he’d really pissed Sam off. Or maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe Sam had… had gone off with someone else for the night. Or just shut everything down for the night to scare him, or completely ignore him and give him the cold shoulder. Or maybe it was nothing to panic about. 

He set himself to the task of finishing up this job so he could finish up early tomorrow. That way he’d be free to make it up to Sam. And he would.

*

Morning came and went. Dean managed to toast the changeling mother and rescue three kidnapped kids. Still nothing from Sam. He checked Sam’s GPS and found he was still where he’d been yesterday. It was a long day’s drive, but he’d head that way and keep texting Sam. If Sam picked up, he’d read him the riot act. If he didn’t… he better have a damned good reason for it.

*

The cold water splashed against his face, pulling him out of the arms of oblivion. Head hanging forward, Sam stared at Gordon from under his bangs. The last thing he remembered before waking up, tied up to a chair, was having a conversation at the bar, with the very hunter holding him captive. He hadn’t known Gordon, but the man had dropped Bobby’s and Dean’s names, and that had been enough for Sam to let his guard down. The guy must have spiked his drink.

Spitting out water and blood, Sam took a deep breath. “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

Gordan backfisted Sam. “Don’t know what I’m talking about? I’m talking telekinesis, twisting people’s minds to your will, electrifying with a touch, premonitions, super strength, _killing_ with a touch. I’m talking the coming of the Antichrist, and you, you Sammy, are in the running.” He chuckled as he dipped his dagger in holy water, then coated it in salt. Laughing, he dragged the blade over Sam’s chest. “What can you do, Sammy. What abilities are lurking in that sick demonic-tainted brain of yours?”

“Fuck you, you--” Sam threw his head back, the veins on his neck standing out as he shouted in pain, and felt a sheet of blood pouring down his chest from the shallow cut. Despite his high pain tolerance, it burned like a sonuvabitch. “Stop… stop,” he said. “I’m telling you man, I don’t know--”

“Sure you don’t,” Gordan said, smiling sadistically. “But I can keep this up until you do know something, or you’ve bled out. Whichever comes first.” He dragged the blade across Sam’s chest again, savoring Sam’s shouts.

*

Dean picked the lock to get into Sam’s motel room. Sam’s bag was basically packed, like Sam was ready to grab and go. His phone was on the bed, blinking a warning that the battery was low, and the bed obviously hadn’t been slept in.

“Okay, so I’m pissed at my boyfriend for blowing me off. I go out drinking. Maybe find a sweet bit of ass to ease the pain, or see some sweet ass to fantasize about. But his car’s in the parking lot so that means he walked…” Dean stepped out the door and looked both ways. He shapeshifted his eyes fractionally, sharpening his vision, and spotted a bar up the road.

After asking a handful of people at the bar, he finally got a hit. Someone remembered Sam, remembered him drinking with a friend. Sam hadn’t been able to hold his liquor, so his friend had helped him out the door.

Dean frowned and asked for a description of the friend. Then it hit him.

Gordan.

Upending his drink, he began asking about local construction sites or abandoned buildings. Once he’d learned all he thought he would, he headed for the door.

“This is my fault, Sam. I’m coming. I’ll find you. And if Gordan has laid a hand on you… I may just break the hunter’s code,” he growled. 

*

While Gordan slept, Sam had managed to almost free one hand from the rope, but the other hunter caught him at it and tied him up doubly tight. The blood had stopped circulating up his arm a long time ago. He guessed the only bit of good that came out of it was that the numbness meant the ropes no longer felt like they were cutting into him. 

Blood dripped from Sam’s nose and mouth. He’d stopped pleading long ago, because he got no mileage out of it. This man was fucked in the head, and there was no talking to him. Telling him the truth would only get him killed. So his choices for the moment were pain or death.

Seeing Gordan pick up a thick, metal pipe, Sam sucked his breath in and braced. If he lived through this, there was a good chance his body would be too broken to serve him as a hunter. Maybe he should be okay with that. Then he could never turn into the monster Azazel wanted him to be. 

“I’ve been easy on you Sam, but I’m tired of not getting anything out of you. What your blood-daddy’s plan is, how he contacts you, how strong your abilities are. Time we kick it up to the next lev--”

Dean kicked the door open, the frame shattering where the door had been locked. He held his gun on Gordan. “Next level you say? That would be me. Drop the billy club or I drop you. I mean it, Gordan. Drop it!”

Gordan rounded on the door, taking a step back. “This is none of your business anymore, Winchester. You didn’t get the job done, I will,” he said. “He’s one of them,” he said, pointing at Sam. “You know it.”

Sam blinked, trying to clear away the fuzziness in his mind. What was Dean doing here? He wasn’t… couldn’t be with Gordan on this. No, he had a gun trained on Gordan. “Shoot him,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“He’s not one of them!” Dean snarled. “He doesn’t have any abilities. He didn’t start getting migraines, no fucked-up abilities, nothing, and it’s been almost a year. Everyone else started showing signs at the same time. He’s clean Gordan! The demon came after his mother for one reason. She had the colt, the gun that can kill anything. That’s all! She didn’t bargain with the demon, not like the others did.” Dean stepped a little closer but made certain to keep enough space between them that Gordan couldn’t jump him. “If he had any of those powers, don’t you think he’d have used them on you by now?” he hissed. “They’re getting stronger. They’re all getting stronger. But he sat there while you tortured him. Didn’t he? Didn’t he Gordan?” he demanded. “Does that make _any_ sense? At all? Last warning. Drop it and go.”

Gordon thought about the things Dean said, and started to nod, but then he shook his head. “He almost got out of his ropes. Give me a half hour, I’m so close. I’ll break him,” he vowed, clubbing Sam across the knees.

Another raw scream erupted from Sam’s throat. The pain vibrated through his body. Gordan was right, he was close to breaking.

“Powers, use your fucking powers,” Gordon shouted, raising the club.

Dean squeezed the trigger, hitting Gordan in the shoulder. When Gordan turned on him, his eyes practically red with rage, Dean put a bullet in the center of his forehead. “Winchesters don’t bluff you sonuvabitch,” he said coldly and watched the man crumple to the floor. “You don’t deserve a hunter’s funeral, but we’re gonna salt you and burn this building down around you.”

Dean hurried to Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. I gotcha. You’re safe now,” he said as he cut Sam’s ropes and held a bottle of water up to his mouth.

“Dean,” he managed, before greedily swallowing down the water. He reached for the bottle, taking it from Dean, drank a little more, then rinsed his mouth and spat out the pink-tinged liquid. “You found me.” Taking a couple breaths, he held onto Dean’s shoulder and pushed himself up, cursing at the pain in his knee. “How?” he asked, searching Dean’s face. At some point, hours ago, he wondered if their last exchange would be Sam’s angry silence. 

“Cause I’m a helluva hunter. Tracked your GPS to the motel, figured you went to the bar, found out Gordan had been there, and asked about abandoned buildings,” Dean said. “I will always find you, Sam. I’m sorry for pushing you away. Won’t happen again. Let’s get you out to the car then I’ll get this place burning.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you found me ‘this’ time,” Sam answered, gritting his teeth against the pain as he limped out, without a second look at Gordon. He might be a hunter, but he was definitely also a monster.

Dean got Sam into the Impala, giving him more water to drink and a leftover half of a sandwich. Leaving him to rest in the car, Dean went to the back of the car and grabbed salt and gasoline.

A few minutes later, he was driving Gordon’s truck right into the building, through its weakest point of a dilapidated wall. Still, if he hadn’t braced, he’d have slammed his face into the steering wheel.

After he salted the body, he doused it, the car, and the wall and floors of the place with gasoline. “Bet you’re pissed as hell,” Dean murmured. “Couldn’t get Sam to crack, and then I toasted your ass. A shifter. A monster who you’d have killed without warning or regret.” Turning on his heels, Dean tossed a lit match behind him and walked away to the sound of flames roaring behind him. “Burn in hell, you bastard.”

*

Getting to the Impala, Dean leaned in the passenger window and looked Sam over. “I think I ought to take you to a hospital. You’re dehydrated, probably have broken bones and need stitches. I’m not letting you die on me now.”

Sam put his arm out, across Dean’s chest. “No. No hospital, I’m fine.” He’d had a few bites of the sandwich but was drinking again. Hunger wasn’t a factor. Thirst was. “I can take care of this. Just need a little rest.” Glancing at Dean, he ran his hand through his own blood matted hair. “Thank you. For,” he nodded toward the blazing building. How did you thank a man for killing another man? 

“I would have let him leave,” Dean said. “But I wouldn’t stand there and let him keep hurting you.” Dean blew out a breath and walked around the car, getting behind the wheel. They needed to get out of here before the fire trucks and cops showed. “We’ll stop at the motel, grab your stuff and get the hell out of Dodge. I’ll have your truck towed someplace for you to pick up later. Then I’ll take you someplace safe to recover. Odds are we’ll both be hunted now. There’s a group of hunters who know about the blood kids, know about you, and knew Gordan was here. All they gotta do is ask a few questions, and they’ll know I was here, too. They’ll either figure you killed Gordan or that I did. If I did, and a few may already know I’m a shifter, they’ll figure I’ve gone rogue. Maybe they’re right about shifters. Maybe no matter how we’re raised, we’re still killers.”

Sam’s head pounded. He ran his hand through his hair again, and let out another breath. “Hunters are killers, too. We’re all killers.” Pressing a hand down onto the seat, he shifted slowly to put less pressure on parts of his body that hurt too much. “You… this isn’t about you, so _you’re_ getting out of dodge. Help me get my car packed, and we’ll go in different directions. And then I’ll let Bobby know I killed Gordan. That it was kill or be killed.”

“This is my fault,” Dean insisted. “And you’re going to shut up and do exactly what I say. You’re in no condition to drive.” Dean turned down some back roads to get to the motel. “Drink more water. It’ll make you feel better. We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

“Who died and made you boss?” Lifting the bottle to his lips, Sam took another drink. “Is this what they’re doing. To the other kids?” Sam asked. He’d checked in on several of them himself. Asked questions and snooped, but he hadn’t been about to rough up anyone that hadn’t done anything. “Judging them, us, before…”

“No! Gordon was off his meds or something,” Dean said. He saw the skepticism in Sam’s eyes and didn’t blame the guy one bit. “Andy, the guy you met, was judged harmless, but they’re checking up on him now and again to make sure nothing changes. Another guy is talking with a psychologist. He might end up being dangerous. He seems to be taking a downhill spiral, and he did kill a cat. Odds are he’ll kill himself before killing someone else, intentionally or not. You were classified harmless, but with potential to be dangerous because you’re a hunter. A couple kids were taken out, but they had killed. Gordan never should have done more than have some drinks and chat you up.” Dean shook his head with disgust. He was going to tear Bobby a new one for this. And what if Sam was right? What if there was a group of hunters out there, simply killing anyone they thought _might_ go evil. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that Dean, the real one, had more or less been of that mind. But he had wanted more proof, and so had Adam.

“If I was classified harmless, and you’re the one who was apparently assigned the task of evaluating me, then why the hell did he … ah…” Sam raised his hand up, and dropped it on his lap, wincing. “Alright, I get it,” he said, looking out the window as the motel came into view. 

“They told me stay away from you. They believed that I wouldn’t be able to do the job if I had to.” Dean glanced over at Sam. “I never told them about your telekinesis, or the premonitions. I promised I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. I’ll get your duffel from the room, then start getting stuff out of your car. Gimme your car keys.”

That wasn’t it, and Sam knew it. He reached for the handle and opened the door. Pushing himself up and out of the car, he dug in his pocket for his keys, then tossed them to Dean, following behind him slowly. 

Dean stepped aside to let Sam open the motel room. “If you want to stretch out for a few minutes, we’ve probably got the time. No more than fifteen though. I’ll start getting stuff out of your car. You need help to the bed? You look like shit.”

“No, I’m fine,” Sam answered, heading for his med kit in the duffel. It hurt like hell to bend down, but he did it. He grabbed his gun first, a favorite, and slipped it into his waistband at his back. Then he picked up the bottle of painkillers and poured a mess of them into his palm.

Limping across the room, he grabbed a half-empty bottle of water and washed the pills down. He’d already taken his phone off the bed, now all he needed was the keys. “I’ve gotta get a few things from the car. Pictures,” he said, grabbing the laptop and standing in front of Dean with his hand open, waiting for the keys the man had dropped into his pocket.

“You gonna run?” Dean asked simply, looking up into his eyes.

Sam let out a breath. “Just give ‘em to me, Dean,” he said, unable to lie straight to his face.

“No.” Dean leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly over Sam’s cut lip. “You look like an extra from a slasher movie. At least put on a shirt to cover the blood and cuts so someone doesn’t call the police. If you’re determined to take your car… then I’m following you. I didn’t spend the past two days worrying about you, kicking myself, missing you, practically killing myself to get here and find you, to have you run out on me. What’s it going to be?”

Sam jerked away, then stared at Dean for a long moment. “Stop. You don’t have to lie anymore or pretend, I told you, I got this figured out.” If his body hadn’t been hurting so badly, he’d be more concerned about his breaking heart. “You wanna help me? Load up my car, leave my keys, and we’ll call it even. I’m cleaning up, then I’m leaving. Alone.” 

Licking his lips, he headed for the bathroom, grabbing a change of clothes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean demanded, stalking forward. “I thought-- I thought you wanted-- _I_ want us to be together, dammit! Look me in the god-damned eyes and tell me you don’t love me!”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam stepped back, banging into the door frame. “Knock it off, alright,” he tiredly huffed. “I get it, I do. You were assigned to watch me, and then it got to be too much, ‘cause I wanted more. You couldn’t deal with a ‘clingy bitch,’” he used a word he was sure had crossed Dean’s mind, “so you shoved the project off on someone else. You didn’t want… this to happen, I know, so it’s cool. But I’m not spending another moment with you, Dean, I can’t. Not like this, I just… I can’t.” His nostrils flared as anger simmered inside him. 

“Gordan got assigned to you because I told them I was in love with you, you fucking idiot! And I am! If you weren’t so hurt I’d already have you in my arms and taken the kiss I’ve been wanting since I got within five feet of you. If you don’t get your head out of your ass, I might still!” Dean’s hands closed into fists. How could he love the guy and want to clock him at the same time?

He sounded so convincing, like he meant every word, and it made Sam want this so much more. “I want to believe you, I really do, Dean,” he said, his eyes stinging with tears. “But I know how you sounded every time I wanted to meet up. I told myself it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing, was it? You didn’t want me in your space, right from the start, but they made you keep in touch.” He swallowed. “I re-read all our texts. It’s not my imagination.”

“Are you shitting me?” Dean asked incredulously. “They told me to stay away, but I told them I wasn’t going to do that. That I wasn’t going to risk losing you. I told them I was going to keep on texting you every day, and Skyping. But…” Dean paused, blowing out a breath as his shoulders sagged. “...I guess I caved. I _was_ trying to put off meeting you. I shouldn’t have listened to them, Sam. But they raised me. They’re my family and if there’s one thing Dean Winchester takes pride in, it’s being a good son and following orders.” Straightened, he met Sam’s gaze. “But now? After this? I say fuck ‘em.” Dean ran a hand lightly along Sam’s bruised cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll say that as many times as I have to. I’ll do whatever you want, prove myself however you want. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Just don’t tell me to leave. Please, Sam.” 

Sam briefly closed his eyes at Dean’s gentle touch, then opened them again, and his heart. Dean was the best thing to have happened to him in a long time, and maybe part of it was that he himself couldn’t believe his own luck. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to think Dean had pulled the wool over his eyes. He swallowed over the lump in his throat and closed his arms around Dean. Fuck the pain. He whispered against Dean’s ear, “I don’t want you to leave, Dean. I just don’t want you to stay because you have to, or because you feel responsible or… I want you to stay because you wanna.”

Dean loosely wrapped his arms around Sam, heaving a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes. “You were the idiot who suggested separate hunts,” Dean whispered back. “My fault, I know, but still. I want to stay. With you. For as long as it lasts, until you can’t stand me anymore.” He brushed his lips over Sam’s ear and tightened his arms around Sam fractionally. “Go get your shower.” 

Sam couldn’t help himself, he whispered, “I love you,” then put his hand over Dean’s mouth, to stop him from answering. “Put my stuff in your car. Make sure you get the tin box out of my trunk, it’s… it’s all I have of Mom.” 

Trusting Dean to do as he asked, Sam backed into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Despite the fact that there weren’t too many pain free zones on his body, he wore a smile, and felt a helluvalot better than when he’d stormed out of his room two nights ago.

* * *

Dean carefully cleaned the cuts on Sam’s chest. Two of them were inflamed but looking better. After smoothing antibiotic gel over the cuts, he taped clean gauze over them, then wrapped bandages around Sam’s broad chest. When he was done, he looked up at Sam.

“You still kinda look like the mummy,” Dean said, kissing Sam lightly. He had mostly thwarted Sam’s efforts to kiss him more aggressively, but Sam’s bruised and busted lip was definitely looking better. “Pretty soon you’ll be well enough for a proper welcome back.”

“I look like the mummy because you insist on wrapping me up,” Sam laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed. In reality, it was great having someone else look after your injuries, a huge change for him. Tipping his head back, he rested his hand on Dean’s side. “I’m ready. Been ready.”

Dean gave him a mild glare. “I know you think you are. I want those infections gone first. Tomorrow evening, I think you’ll be up to it, and I’ll be happy to tackle you into the bed. And your knee, how’s it feeling? Should I get the ice pack back out?” Sam’s knee had swollen almost as big as a coconut but with rest and ice, it was getting much closer to looking normal. Sam had plenty of other injuries that Dean mothered him about. His left hand was in a splint because of broken fingers, his wrist was sprained. His ribs were bruised and at least one or two had been cracked. Luckily Sam seemed to heal pretty quickly.

“Nah, knee’s okay. I just have the worst pain… it’s fine.” 

“What? Where’s the worst pain?” Dean asked, meeting Sam’s stare.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Sam swallowed. “I… it’ll go away.” He looked dead serious.

“Embarrassing? Is your ass bruised or something? Why didn’t you say something. You can probably take another pain-killer,” Dean said. “C’mon, you don’t need to be embarrassed. I’ve seen you naked and liked everything that I saw.” He cupped the side of Sam’s face. “So ‘fess up.”

Sam closed his hand around Dean’s wrist, slowly tugging it free of his face and deliberately drawing it down over Sam’s groin. He never looked away from Dean, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “How long did you think I’d last with you in my bed, refusing to touch?” He licked his lips, then closing his arms around Dean, slowly dragged him down to the bed.

Dean laughed. “All right, all right, but you’re going to regret it. Sweat in the cuts. Landing on bruises and sprains.” Running a finger over Sam’s lips he let it dip in between Sam’s lips a little, his eyelids half-closing. “I could do all the work this time. You just lay there and enjoy it while I bring you off. Or I could let you tie me up. Which do you like best?” he asked, licking his lips.

“I’ll tie you up when I can actually do something more about it,” he laughed, catching Dean’s finger with his teeth. “You haven’t sent me any dirty texts in days.”

“I didn’t want to be accused of being a tease,” Dean answered, cocking an eyebrow at Sam and running his hands along Sam’s arms. “You want me to go into the other room and send you texts so dirty I’ll have to get you another new phone?”

“No, I don’t trust you to come back and make it better. Where will I be then, here, alone, burning up, thinking of your mouth on me,” Sam said, running his hand over Dean’s chest and playing with the buttons of his shirt. “Suffering, calling you but just getting more dirty texts that make it so much worse. Dean, you’re getting me hard and you’re not even doing anything!” Rolling onto his side, Sam glared at him. 

“God, you’ve got an imagination. Why are you glaring at me? You’re the one who wanted dirty texts!” Dean returned the glare. “You know what you are? A red-headed woman.” He gave Sam’s shoulder a light shove, pushing him onto his back, then cupped Sam through his sweats. “Except most red-headed women don’t have this.”

Sam gave a low moan. “You can call me whatever you like, just don’t stop.” Grasping the front of Dean’s shirt, he pulled him closer, lifting up slightly to lock lips with him. He didn’t move his mouth much, but he let his tongue do the talking, tangling it with Dean’s. When he’d tossed his phone down and headed out to a bar almost a week ago, and afterwards, when Gordan had him, Sam had thought he’d never be in the safety of Dean’s arms again, never be able to kiss him again. Starting right the hell now, he wasn’t gonna pass up any opportunities for closeness between them.

“Mmmnnggh,” Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth, beginning to knead and stroke Sam’s cock, still keeping his hand outside, teasing them both. He had given Sam a very thorough blow job a couple nights back, but it seemed like an eternity ago.

“Can’t ever get enough of you,” Dean gasped when they broke for air. “Tell me what you want. What do you want me to do to you?” He loved dirty talk almost as much as anime porn.

Sam’s breaths came out ragged. “I want your cock,” he said, reaching for Dean’s button, and working to open up his jeans. He struggled to push them down, but with Dean’s help, he got them down to Dean’s hips. Then he lifted his own hips, and easily pulled the sweats down.

Pulling Dean close, he wrapped his hands around both their cocks, pressing them together and stroking up and down. “Fuck… you’re so hard,” he said, his heart kicking up a notch. They were both hard up for it. “Tell me a story. Make it hot,” he said, closing his eyes and knowing they were about to go on a wild ride. 

“A story, huh?” Dean said, trying to focus as Sam stroked them in unison. “Okay, so a long time ago in a galaxy far far away was...Sam Skywalker, a young up and coming, if still a bit innocent, Jedi. Among his closest friends was Dean Solo. And Dean had to admit he really liked seeing Sam with his lightsaber out.” He watched Sam to see if Sam was going to give him a quelling look.

“You’re an ass.” Giving Dean a glare, Sam squeezed their cocks, watching Dean’s face, and getting what he needed from his expressions. “But I like your lightsaber, too, Dean Solo, I like it a lot. And if my knee could take it, I’d roll over for you but… fuck, at least kiss me if you’re not telling a story.”

“You expect me to think of a story…. ah-ah…” Dean squeezed his eyes shut and groaned at the things Sam was doing to him. “When you’re doing this to me?” Dean crushed his lips against Sam’s, tangling their tongues, warring, determined to win. He moved one hand down to fondle Sam’s nipple as he kissed Sam to within an inch of his life.

Sam arched under Dean’s touch. They were predictably getting a little rougher, but a little pain was worth it. He wanted Dean’s kisses, he wanted to know, to feel how much Dean wanted him. “What… what am I doing to you, Dean?” he asked, moving his mouth to Dean’s neck. He started to stroke faster and harder, his need building with every slide of their bodies.

“You’re making me harder. Making me crazy. Making my cock turn to steel,” he gasped. “I’m leaking for you, thinking how bad I want to be in you. My balls ache to be pressed and bounced against your sweet, tight ass. Awww, fuuuck,” Dean groaned, both wanting to come and wanting this to last. “What am I doing… nnghh… to you?”

Dean’s words pushed Sam farther and farther, closer to the edge. His thumb moved over Dean’s tip, spreading his cum, and he moved one hand to Dean’s balls, to fulfill Dean’s desires. His breaths were rough and labored. He licked his lips and tried to answer. “You’re making me insane, Dean. Making me want to ride your hard, beautiful cock, ride it so we’re both screaming. I can’t think of anything but you, your scent, your taste, fuck… your touch.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he stroked faster, needing to get there so bad, it hurt.

Dean threw his head back as Sam thumbed his tip then played with his balls. The images Sam painted, of riding him, of them both crying out, twisted him up inside in a way he could never describe or had ever imagined. “Oh, god, Sam, come for me, come with me, push us over. Faster, baby, faster,” he begged.

He felt Sam do just as he asked and he practically convulsed with pleasure as his body clenched tight then everything broke loose in a torrent of cum pouring from him. 

“Dean!” Sam called his lover’s name, then turned his face and pressed his teeth and mouth against Dean’s shoulder as he came hard, his cum splattering on them, mingling with Dean’s. “Oh God… oh God…” Sam released their cocks and hung on to Dean as he rode the waves of his ecstasy. “Needed this, needed you so damned much,” he said, kissing Dean’s shoulder where he’d accidentally marked him. 

“You have me,” Dean promised as he breathed heavily. “And this is just the start. When you’re all healed up and healthy, we’ll take a-a-a vacation or holiday or something. You and me, ghosts and monsters not welcome. Off the grid. Just the two of us. You like that?” he asked, twisting his head to kiss Sam’s temple. “You are so damned fine and beautiful.”

“That sounds nice,” Sam answered, not knowing how or why Dean saw him that way, when Dean was the good-looking one. “Just you, me, and the crickets… oh, I think we’re already on vacation” he chuckled, giving Dean another kiss.

“This is recovery, not vacation,” Dean said, “though I got a feeling it’s going to be a nice warm up for a real vacation. You know, when you’re completely healed up and I can keep you up all night long making love to you.” Dean held Sam close. “Love you, Sammy.”

Sam was about to agree, but Dean’s declaration shocked the hell out of him. He took a few cautious breaths, then lifted his head. “Do you mean that?” he asked, licking his lips. “I mean, you don’t have to say that. I’m not trying to … to trap you or--”

“Stop it.” Dean interrupted, pulling back to look into Sam’s hopeful gaze. “Yes, I mean it. It kinda, well, unnerves me to make that sort of commitment, so I probably won’t, you know, say it, a lot. When we’re apart, you’re all I think about. Is this forever? Who knows, who cares? Hunters don’t live to ripe old ages anyhow. I love you right now. That’s enough for me… if it’s enough for you.”

Unable to answer with words, Sam answered with his kisses, showing Dean what was in his heart. It would have been enough for him that Dean wasn’t running in the opposite direction, that he wanted to see him often. This… this was a gift the hunter never expected. 

“Damn you’re so easy,” Dean teased when Sam finally stopped giving him steaming hot kisses. “Not complaining. I’m an insensitive lout most times so hopefully when I screw up and forget something, you’re easy to get to forgive me.” Dean ran his hand along Sam’s side. “We should have had our fun _before_ I’d rebandaged your chest. Why don’t we get a quick shower then I’ll start lunch if you can stand another meal made by yours truly.”

“Easy, huh? Jerk,” Sam smiled so wide his dimples showed. He kissed Dean one last time and got off the bed to take that shower. 

* * *

Laying in bed with his computer on his lap, Sam was following up on one of the demon-blood kids, when he found out that the kid had been killed. He glanced over at Dean, who was watching TV through heavy-lidded eyes. He wondered if Dean knew. If his hunter buddies had done this. He wanted to ask, but he was afraid of the answer. And he didn’t want to start anything, because he knew it would then turn into an argument about why Dean hadn’t told him.

Lips pressed in a flat line, he shut his laptop and put it on the nightstand. Mumbling “goodnight,” he got under the covers and rolled onto his side. He felt anger balling up deep inside him, and knew he was overreacting. That was part of why he said nothing. He needed to get a hold of his emotions or he’d fly off the handle.

*  
 _Sam felt powerless. Each time Gordon struck him, each time he demanded answers, all Sam could do was take it. The pain was tearing him apart. At first, all he wanted was for this to end._

_Then everything changed._

_He saw Gordon through a red haze. He wanted the man to suffer, to feel the twist of a knife in his gut, the bash of an elbow in his eye socket. He wanted to bash him against the wall, and keep bashing and bashing. he wanted to grind him under his foot. He wanted to choke the fucking life out of him._

Everything in the room started to rattle. Books, bags, empty beer bottle started to rise and swirl overhead, bashing into the walls.

The bed rose and fell, then rose again. A force started to backhand everything surrounding Sam, slamming items against walls or throwing them across the floor.

Dean let out a muffled cry when Sam literally kicked him out of bed. “What the hell, Sam?” Dean sputtered into his pillow and pushed himself up off the ground, only to get beaned in the head with an empty beer bottle. “Ow, sonuvabitch!”

Reaching out for the lamp, he was met with empty air as it was whipped away, joining the other objects flying violently around the room. Even the bed bounced up off the floor. That was when he heard Sam growl something unintelligible. Dean dove onto the bed and threw himself on top of Sam, slanting his mouth over Sam’s and crushing their lips together. He broke the kiss and murmured soothingly, “Sam. Sammy. It’s Dean. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up, Baby,” he begged, wincing when something hard smacked him in the back of the head. “Sammy!”

“Fucking erase you,” Sam growled, managing to get his hands around his adversary’s throat. He was gonna choke the life out of Gordon. This would end, now.

Dean was shocked when Sam’s fingers bit into his throat. Sucking in a breath was hard with the pressure Sam was putting on his trachea. He was at a disadvantage, being too close to Sam to be able to punch him, and laying on top of him, he couldn’t even knee the guy easily. He tried to pull away, but Sam’s grip was iron. Anything he did would hurt Sam in ways he didn’t want to. But he was definitely beginning to need a breath. He hated his options, and he hadn’t shifted much in so long, it took effort to even do what had once been so natural for him. Reluctantly he thickened his neck muscles and stiffened his trachea so Sam simply wasn’t strong enough to close it off. He sucked in a breath as he rolled over onto his back and tugged at Sam’s arms. “Sam! Wake the fuck up!” he shouted, his voice raspy and strange sounding.

Sam came awake, but the rage inside him hadn’t cooled. He pressed his thumbs harder into flesh, until he realized it was Dean. Releasing him immediately, he leaned over his face. “Dean. Dean, are you okay?” he was breathing hard, like he’d been running a mile. He had no clue what was happening. “I’ll get the light…” Only it wasn’t there.

“Better,” Dean rasped, letting his throat return to normal now that Sam wasn’t trying to kill him. He felt almost… dirty… shifting like that, even if his other option had been to hurt Sam. “There’s broken glass everywhere. Don’t get out of bed. I can see better in the dark than you can. I’ll get the main light on,” he said, running his hand soothingly along Sam’s side.

“What… what happened… Dean?” Fear crept into his voice, despite Dean’s reassuring caress. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and the rage was replaced by this impending sense of doom. “Oh God… oh God, Dean…”

“Shhh. You just had a nightmare, Sammy. It’ll be okay. I’d say your abilities are, ah, getting a little stronger, but we can deal with that. Though it might be a good idea to leave anything silver out in the car from now on, just in case.” 

“Did I hurt you? I hurt you, didn’t I?” Why else would Dean be talking about silver. “Oh God.” Licking his lips, he swung his feet over the side of the bed. “What have I done?”

“You didn’t hurt me. You scared the hell out of me when I couldn’t get you to wake up at first. And startled me when you kicked me out of the bed and I got whacked with a beer bottle.” He pulled Sam back as he sat up and gave him a kiss. “I’m going to be pissed as hell if you step on glass. Let me get the lights.” Dean looked around, his shifter night vision being one thing he’d never quite given up. It was also why his eyes reflected silver sometimes. Sam was going to shit when he saw the complete destruction in the room. It looked like a mini tornado or something had torn through the place. He wasn’t going to shelter Sam from the truth though, as much as he wanted to.

When the lights came on, Sam wished they hadn’t. Because this was a hundred times worse than what he’d imagined. His gaze moved slowly over every inch of the room, then to the red marks on Dean’s neck, and then over the rest of the trashed room. “You should go,” he said, an ache in his voice. “It’s not safe with me anymore.” 

“No,” Dead said firmly. “Only silver can kill me. You know that. And I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but what if someone called the cops while you were in a room-trashing nightmare? They come busting in and if you react while still asleep? No, it’s safer for you and me and everyone else if we’re together. I’ll sleep lighter,” Dean said, carrying fresh clothes over for Sam and shaking out their shoes. “If I pick up even a hint of a nightmare coming on you, I’ll wake you up or make you feel safe. I promise, Sam. I’ll keep you safe.” 

“You didn’t sign on for _this_. You’re not my babysitter. And if I ever did anything to you…” Even now, Sam felt sick to his stomach. And shame. He’d used dark powers, given to him by a demon. He’d hurt his lover, even if Dean denied it.

Looking miserable, but unsure just now what to do about the situation, he took the clothes and started to get dressed. “Maybe it would have been better if Gordon--”

“Don’t you say that! Don’t you dare say that!” Dean snapped at him. “You didn’t ask for freaky Jedi powers any more than I asked to be a shifter! It’s who we are, and you know what? I’m okay with that, so long as I have you.” He pulled out some fresh clothes for himself and slipped into them. “I don’t care what’s happening to you. I _did_ sign up for this when I told you I love you. I will be here to catch you if you start to fall cause that’s what two people who love each other do.” He met Sam’s eyes defiantly. “And if you even think about taking off without me, I will kick your ass to the moon and back. Got it?” 

“Dean…” He swallowed hard at the look in Dean’s eyes. Why? Why did he have to find love now? Why couldn’t it have been years ago, before all this. He felt himself tear up and looked away, tugging his clothes. “Sooner or later they’re going to ask you to do what they did to the Summers kid.” He turned to look at Dean, to see if he’d lie or pretend he didn’t know. 

Dean’s breath caught. “If you ask me, they jumped the gun,” he said, wanting to look away from Sam but he couldn’t. “Sam, if somehow I can’t save you, I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone. But I’m not going to say just because you’ve got psychic abilities that you’re going to go bad. Yeah, it’s probably the demon blood that gave you the abilities, or made them stronger, but you know what I think? Because you know the source, you can prep yourself, you can figure out how to fight it because you know what’s going on. I have faith that your love for me is strong enough to fight it.” Dean gave him a smirk. “I’m egotistical that way. I’m not giving up on you, got it?”

Humbled, Sam nodded. “If… you know…” Unable to say it, he wiped the wetness from his eyes. “I don’t want you to be the one to do it. If I’m still me, you tell me it’s time. You tell me, Dean, and I’ll do it,” he vowed. “You’re not gonna carry this with you on top of everything else.” More fucking tears slid down his cheeks and he wiped furiously at them, and got up.

Dean wanted to argue. If Sam had enough self-control to take himself out of the game, then he had enough self-control to still have a chance at being saved. He knew that even if Sam didn’t. Dean stepped over to Sam and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. “Don’t worry Sam. It’s not going to come to that. Anytime you feel yourself losing control, think of me. Think of how much I love you and need you. And if you have to use your abilities to protect yourself, just make sure it’s not innocents and that there’s not another way and you won’t find any censor in me. Got it?”

Burying his face in Dean’s neck, Sam gave a nod. It wasn’t that easy. It was never gonna be that easy. He felt it in his gut. But if Dean believed, he’d try to believe, too. “I love you,” he whispered, tilting his face up and kissing Dean. 

“Don’t ever stop and we’ll get through this,” Dean promised, refusing to let his fears overwhelm his hope.

***

*Where the hell are you?* Dean texted to Sam. Sam had gone down to the diner to grab them supper. They had these awesome bbq burgers with deep fried onion strings and melted cheddar, and Dean had made him promise not to forget to get some pie. Dean had set up the small table for them to eat at and grabbed a shower. He was a little surprised when thirty minutes later Sam still wasn’t back. So he’d picked up his phone and texted him. Five minutes later he texted him again. And then again, this time.

Dean pulled on his coat and slid his favorite gun into its holster then phoned Sam, but his call went straight to voicemail. “Sammy, you’re beginning to worry me. I’m coming to look for you. Call me as soon as you get this.”

Dean ended the call and headed grimly out the door. If anyone had so much as looked at Sam wrong, there would be hell to pay.

*

Sam groaned, forcing his eyes open despite the headache. He’d thought he must have had another one of the migraines that made him blackout, but as someone helped him get up off the ground, he remembered. 

He’d just been getting into the car with their food when he’d been surrounded by demons. He hadn’t had the chance to pull out a weapon, not that it would have been effective. One of them must have bashed his head in.

There were several people in the room with him. Andy was the one helping him up. He recognized another kid and started putting it together. They were all kids who’d been fed demon blood.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked. He’d have thought hunters were rounding them up, but he’d seen the demons. His gaze moved to the door. It was open. So it didn’t look like they were prisoners. “Where the hell are we?”

“Some sort of ghost town,” Andy said. He’d forgotten just how tall Sam was. “Looks like it’s been abandoned for a long time. There’s a well if you need some water, but we haven’t found any food, phones don’t work, and the road is overgrown and pretty much disappears about 50 yards into the woods. And Sam, these woods look like something out of a horror flick. Dark, tangled, filled with whacked out noises.” He gave a shudder and looked at Sam hopefully.

“Demons?” Sam asked, checking his pockets and waistband. His weapons were still there. Seeing Andy shake his head ‘no,’ he started walking out, thumping one of the other guys on the back. The guy looked like he was in shellshock.

Outside, the air felt heavy. Just like Andy said, they appeared to be on the main street of an old western town, that had long been abandoned. In the distance, he saw the street had been swallowed up by bleak greenery.

Checking his phone, he swore. Dean would be freaking out right about now. He turned his head and saw a unique looking building, with the name of a business on it, as well as the name of the town they were in. “There’s got to be a way to get a message out. Somehow. If I could contact Dean He’d bring help,” Sam said, knowing in his gut that wherever they were, Dean would find him.

Andy lifted his hand, “Ah, I’ve got a few new abilities. I can put images in people’s minds. I haven’t tried long distance, but maybe?” he offered with a shrug. 

“Andy, see that building? Think you can send Dean a mental image of it?” 

“Who’s Dean,” Andy asked glancing at the building. “And I need something the guy’s touched. Is he another,” Andy waved a hand, “guy like you? Knows about this sort of stuff? Man, I wish I had my bong.” 

“Yeah, he’s a hunter.” _My hunter._ Sam tried not to allow any doubts about never seeing him again cloud his judgment. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and showed Andy a picture that he and Dean had taken in one of those photo booths. “That’s him. You think you can do it?”

“Hey, I know that guy! He was following me around for a couple weeks. I thought I was going to have to tell the guy to get lost, but then he disappeared,” Andy said, looking at the picture. “I kept waiting for him to hit on me. You got anything that’s his? His signature or something I can use to focus on him with?” he asked.

“Hit on you?” Sam cracked his neck to one side and stared at Andy. 

“Yeah, the way he was watching me, at first I thought he was, you know, interested in me.” Andy said, then his eyebrows lifted and he looked at the picture Sam had again. “Ooooh. Uh, no. He never hit on me. He’s all yours, big guy.”

“Hmph,” Sam gave a grump, wondering if that’s how Dean had approached all of the tainted kids when he followed them around. He remembered distinctly the way Dean had taken a seat next to him at the bar, and later flirted with him. Then again, it didn’t seem like he’d made actual contact with Andy… and this was so not that time to worry about stupid things.

Bending over, Sam pulled a knife out of the ankle sheath in his boot. “This is his,” he said, offering it to Andy. “He must be going out of his mind about now. The last time I was missing, it wasn’t pretty.”

Andy accepted the knife, running his fingers lightly along the hilt. “You go missing a lot? What happened?” He focused on separating Sam’s essence away from the other.

“No, just that one time. He came and got me though. Found me, against a lot of odds. And he’ll come now,” he said, believing it with every cell in his body. “Just show him. Do it quick, Andy,” Sam said, feeling the growing heaviness in the air.

Andy focused on the building, gazing at it steadily as he searched for the odd essence of Dean Winchester. It didn’t feel normal, not at all, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it. Building, Sam, blocked road, no signal on phone. Those were the images he sent, over and over. He gave a soft cry of pain and sank to his knees, breathing hard. “Got him. I think he got the images, at least. He’s… different than others,” Andy said as he held the knife out to Sam. “Don’t suppose you have any aspirin?” he asked, wiping at the blood dripping from his nose.

Sam immediately caught him before he fell all the way down, and helped him up. “Yeah, I do,” he answered, looking a little guilty because he knew what the migraines were like. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a couple pills, much stronger than aspirin, and passed them to Andy. “You’re sure he got ‘em?” He wouldn’t have pressed, but he had the feeling their lives depended on this. 

Andy dry-swallowed one of the pills and tucked the other into his pants pocket, figuring he’d probably need another soon enough. He gave something of a helpless shrug as his legs steadied. “Thanks. I can tell you I touched his mind. It was hard to push through, like he could put up some sort of Vulcan mind-shield, but I kept pounding with the images. It felt like he opened up, got them, and tried to talk to me, but that’s when it all went blooey. Hopefully he can figure out where we are,” he said, hoping Sam’s boyfriend was the heroic type with lots of back up. He had a feeling getting out of this place was not going to be easy.

“Yeah, he’s a bit hard-headed.” Sam grinned and put an arm around Andy, helping him back into the building with the others. “What’s this?” he asked, seeing a large sack that hadn’t been there before.

“Weapons. They just appeared,” one of the girls said. She was brandishing a wicked looking sword.

“What for?” Sam asked.

“Dunno, but you can’t pick up more than one. So I’d take my pick earlier rather than later,” she said. “More of us are coming. I can feel it.”

* * *

Dean had jogged to the diner and found the Impala sitting there, food in the front seat… and sulfur scattered on and along one side of the car. The driver’s side. He didn’t have to ask anyone anything. It was obvious that Sam had been taken by demons.

He slid behind the wheel and pulled out his spare set of keys and headed back to the motel. He’d get them packed up and--and--and…

What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no clue where the demons took Sam. They could have taken him anywhere on this green Earth, or even taken him to Hell or Purgatory.

Hold it together, he told himself, surprised there were no tears. There was nothing but raw fury that Sam had been taken from him. Again. He got inside the motel room only to get mind-slammed by something’s mental attack. He tried to keep the opposing mind out of his own, but slowly the essence of Sam slipped through. Sam had premonitions and his telekinesis had skyrocketed in power. Would it be a shock for him to be developing telepathy?

He let the attack come and images flashed through his mind three times over, the pain excruciating, the migraine they left in their wake almost crippling. It wasn’t Sam, but it was about Sam.

He fumbled open his phone and dialed Bobby.

* * * 

Azazel, the yellow-eyed demon, had appeared once all the kids that had been force fed his blood were assembled. Like some of the others, Sam tried to attack him, but was thrown against the wall and pinned. Forced to listen.

The demon explained that only one of the kids would walk out of this town alive. That everything that had happened to them in their lives until this point had prepared them for this, the fight of their lives. That they’d all been given powers, and needed to use them right here, right now, and to make it count. Otherwise, there was no tomorrow. 

When Azazel left, Sam tried to get the others to listen. Telling them they did not have to fight, that this was bullshit. Not even a moment passed before someone let an arrow fly, and a kid was dead.

The large group scattered, as did the weapons they took. Small clusters, alliances formed. Pacts were made to protect each other, and blood curdling screams of death sounded as people were eliminated from the demonic version of the Hunger Games.

Sam, Andy, and a girl with the power to command lightning, Nicole, huddled behind a building. They argued over whether to stop the others from killing each other, or to find a place to secure themselves.

*

Dean told Bobby everything that had happened since he and Sam had fallen off the radar after Gordon. Told Bobby how Sam’s powers had taken a recent spike, how Sam had been taken by demons, and how Dean had been sent images of Sam and a deserted town he needed to track down.

If this was it, the demon’s big first move, then hunters needed to be alerted. Dean wasn’t an idiot. Sam could go evil. Or Sam could be mind-controlled. Or possessed. Or Sam could simply end up dead. Dean couldn’t risk what might be the fate of the world on him and Sam coming out on top. Because really, what were the chances of that happening?

Probably zero.

He promised Bobby he’d get back with him as soon as he figured out where the town was, though he already had his suspicions. He popped some painkillers for his headache and set to work confirming Sam was in Cold Oak South Dakota and finding out everything he could about the lay of the land.

*

Six hours later, Sam counted ten dead. At least those he knew about. 

He’d resolved not to use his powers, but that resolve had dissipated when a dagger whizzed towards them, aimed at Andy’s heart. After that, adrenalin took over. He was going to knock out as many of the ‘players’ as possible. And while Nicole let out the bolts of lightning, helping him see, he walked the town, drawing other kids out, reaching towards them and throwing them with the full force of his powers. 

He heard bones crack. He didn’t know how to control his strength. And then, he stopped caring. Whatever it was inside him, it grew strong, eclipsing the parts of him that were coded to save others. Instead, he was filled with anger and rage, and he just wanted to win.

*

Dean cursed when he had to abandon his beloved Impala because of fallen trees and crap blocking the road that was half overgrown anyhow. He grabbed the two duffels he’d already made up, one for Sam and one for him. The duffels were loaded with a couple shotguns, plenty of salt and consecrated iron rounds, extra clips for the handguns, several small bottles of holy water and a few iron blades. There was also a silver blade for each of them, though he didn’t foresee needing it, but he really didn’t have a fucking clue what he was walking into. He’d packed some energy bars just in case this turned out to be a longer… whatever… than just walking in and getting Sam out.

Other hunters were on the way, but Dean had made certain he had a head start on them, just in case.

He climbed over the tree trunks and began running down the overgrown road as soon as he could. He could hear the clap of thunder and see flashes of light somewhere ahead. It made his blood ice. “I’m coming, Sammy. Just hold on.”

There were _things_ in the woods, he could sense it, the way the hairs on the back of his neck lifted, but they would have to wait. He could hear distant noises that sounded like wood shattering amidst the cracks of lightning and rumbles of thunder. He put his head down and focused on running faster.

Clawing his way through the thickening overgrowth with thorns that seemed to grab at him, he suddenly stumbled out into the open. The dark abandoned town was scattered before him like piles of cracked and broken bones. Walls had recently collapsed, pieces of roofs lay in the roadway, and fire crackled on a front porch where there had once been a wooden swing that was now a charred husk of its former self. Windows were shattered in most every building. The air was thick with ozone and an occasional shout or even scream punctured the night. Yanking one of the shotguns with iron rounds free of his bag, he began creeping forward into the darkened town, cocking his head, listening for sounds, listening for fights, listening for Sam.

*

Sam walked around some crates, then ducked as a large tree trunk hurtled towards him. It landed in a cloud of dust, and then Sam was heading for the source. Arms outstretched, he pushed his will forward, an invisible force flowing from him and damaging everything in his path. 

Through the haze of battle, Sam heard Nicole shouting, telling him to stop, to not do this. But he _couldn’t_ stop. He would finish this, here and now. So he pushed on, his gaze moving to one of the taller brick buildings on one side of the road. Suddenly, the building’s roof caved in, part of the large planks and brick siding off the building, crashing onto the road. Shouts came from the rubble. Gripped by a fury he didn’t understand, Sam strode towards the shouts, needing to eradicate them.

Dean saw things getting flung about the town and figured it was likely telekinesis or simply demons at work. Dodging bricks and trees sucked out loud, but he had to push on. He had to find Sam--

And then Dean saw him. Sam. Striding down the road, everything in front of him shattering like explosive waves were rippling outward from him. A three-story building collapsed in front of Sam. Dean heard voices calling to Sam, voices cursing him, threatening him, begging him, but nothing seemed to affect Sam’s momentum.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, leery of moving forward and leery of getting close to collapsing buildings, but also hating he was so fucking exposed. “Sammy! You gotta stop, Sammy! Come back to me!” he shouted, somewhere between begging and demanding.

Sam slowly turned toward the forest, his arm still outstretched. His chest rose and fell, power building inside him, demanding release, while something held him back. Something he couldn’t explain. And didn’t need.

His jaw hardening, he turned away and started to head for those trapped under the rubble.

Dean swore under his breath and jogged closer to Sam, trying to keep an eye on his surroundings. Eyes were on him. Too many creepy-ass eyes and he felt so exposed he might as well be naked.

“Sammy! I swore I’d come for you. You swore you’d hang on for me. You remember? In the motel, in each other’s arms? Don’t leave me Sammy, please, don’t leave me. I need you!” Dean said, unsure what card would be best to play on Sam, but hoping the ‘love’ card would be the strongest and best to reach through the powers of darkness permeating the air and filling the man he loved with evil.

The air crackled around Sam. He turned his head again, this time seeing Dean. He shook his head. “Go home, Dean. This is the end. I’m finishing this. Finishing everyone. Everything.” He would wipe out all the players, and then he’d bury the king. Azazel. His nostrils flared as he practically willed Dean away.

Dean felt a push against his chest, against his mind. The voice inside him told him to leave. To get the hell out. This fight was over. Dean had lost.

“You are my home to go to. I don’t have anyone else. I don’t want anyone else,” Dean insisted and forced himself to take a few steps forward. “Are you going to finish this fight? Don’t you see? That’s what the demon wants. Then you’re his and you’ll end up finishing off the world! Giving it to him and his pretties. And you’ll be at his feet, begging like a dog for praise. With me, Sam, with me, we’ll take on the monsters _together_ and we’ll win, because we love each other more than the ones that hate every living thing. Because we’re a team that no fucked up demon blood can break!” Dean prayed he was pushing the right buttons, finding the right truths to tell Sam. He had a feeling with hardly a swat, Sam could do a pretty good job of splattering him across the road.

Sam cracked his neck to the side. Dean’s words unsettled him. He was so sure he could defeat Azazel once he got rid of his tainted children. But Dean’s words rang true. He pushed against Dean again, wanting to get back the clarity he’d had only moments ago. But it was too late, cracks were developing in the logic that had taken hold of him. 

In a few strides, Sam was at Dean’s side. He ran his fingers along Dean’s face, cupped his jaw and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You promised you’d do it. Do it, Dean. Do it now, before it’s too late.” He closed his eyes, waiting for one kind of darkness to blot out another kind. 

Dean flinched a little at Sam’s first touch, worried he might try to break his neck or rip out his heart or something. But Sam’s touch was gentle and Dean pressed his chin down against that caressing hand. “Yes, I promised,” he said hoarsely, dropping the shotgun. He pulled Sam into his arms, kissing him with all the love inside of him, with all the new promises he wanted them to make to each other.

Bobby had been right to doubt Dean, because Dean knew he would stand by his lover… even into the darkness, if that’s where this journey took them. Or he’d kill them both, if that’s what had to happen. But he wouldn’t leave Sam. Or just take him out. He couldn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

Buildings collapsed around them. Rocks, bullets, and rubble bumped into invisible walls surrounding them, and fell harmlessly at their feet. Although a battle raged, they might as well have been in their own world, for all it mattered. 

The sudden downpour of cold rain had Sam pulling away. “I was expecting bullets not kisses,” he said hoarsely. “Dean, I killed people. I...”

“Better than the reverse. In both cases,” Dean said. “You were lost. I found you. I’ll always find you. I’ll always bring you home. From the looks of things, it’s kill-or-be-killed,” Dean said, putting his palm on the side of his lover’s face. “If they’d had the upper hand instead of you, would they have let you live? Besides, hunters are coming to finish this. No one’s walking away, including us if we don’t get the fuck out of here.”

“We gotta get Andy,” Sam said, looking over his shoulder at the building he’d demolished. “If he’s…” He swallowed. “Dean, Azazel was here. He’s gonna be back.” They both had reasons to risk everything to end the yellow-eyed demon.

“Right now I’m kinda thinking he’s got the home court advantage,” Dean said. “Killing him isn’t worth losing you. And honestly Sam, I don’t want to know if you’re stronger than him and what it would do to you if you were. Anyone else here you think is salvageable and worth the risk?” he asked, his gaze following Sam’s to the building. If Sam said Andy was a good guy worth saving, then he’d do it. Andy would have to run for the border afterwards cause the hunters knew about him, but they’d deal with that later, cause they might end up joining Andy on that run.

“We don’t get Azazel, and this will _never, ever_ be over,” Sam countered. He stared at Dean for a long time. Deep down, he knew Dean had a burning need to dispatch yellow-eyes. If Dean was reluctant, he was seeing something that Sam couldn’t. “Okay,” he gave a nod. “Andy and Nicole, if she’s…” 

Dean squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “We’ll get the bastard. I promise you Sam, we’ll find a way, cause I’m not living in that thing’s shadow the rest of our days. We just won’t get him today. Come on, let’s start digging. And Sam… don’t use your abilities unless the only other option is death. You’re too close to the edge right now.” He light slapped Sam’s cheek. “C’mon baby. Show me how much you ‘dig’ me,” he said, making a joke he knew was lamer than lame.

Everything inside Sam balked, even though he knew Dean was right. Giving a tight smile, he brushed his mouth across Dean’s and then headed with him, towards the rubble. “Andy. Andy! Nicole!” he called out. His shouts quickly drew attention, and he and Dean were targeted.

They’d just reached the rubble, when a large piece of building material with rebar shot towards them. Instinctively, Sam raised his arm to deflect it.

Dean knew there were still enemies around them. He just didn’t know how many. He’d had a faint hope that maybe if they weren’t actively fighting, they’d be left alone. Of course, considering the damage Sam was capable of wreaking, many might not take to the idea of letting Sam live. He kept alert as they called out for Sam’s friends. He saw the chunk of debris rocketing towards Sam and Sam didn’t attempt to dodge but started to raise his hand, his eyes slitted. Dean tackled him behind other debris as the concrete and rebar flew by them. “Old school, Sammy. Stick with old school and duck.” He slapped Sam on the back then gave him a light kiss. “C’mon, I think I heard Andy. This way and keep low.”

Reaching for Dean’s arm, Sam gave him a nod. He didn’t know how Dean kept his cool, kept encouraging him, kept him on track when Sam wasn’t able to. Sam’s head pounded with thoughts of how he was going to handle this after they made it out. Dean couldn’t always be there watching him.

Hearing Andy’s voice, Sam pulled out of his morose thoughts and jogged with Dean. “There,” he said, seeing Andy in the rubble, tugging on his leg stuck under something.

“Nicole?” Sam asked, as he and Dean pulled some of the debris clear.

Andy coughed a few times, wincing and holding his side. “I heard her. She’s over there… somewhere.”

Dean lifted some blocks off of Andy’s leg. “Never had a chance to tell you. Love your van, dude. The ice queen, black velvet tiger art. Your van rocks. I’m Dean. I know you saw me.”

Andy gave a nod. “Yeah, I was afraid you were going to hit on me.”

“Stop saying that,” Sam huffed, his hand shaking a little as he helped to dig. Power kept surging to his fingertips but he refused to allow it to exit his system.

Dean chuckled and helped Andy up. Andy’s leg was bleeding and bruised, but he could put weight on it. “You’re not my type.” He grew more serious. “We’ve got the other blood kids still attacking and hunters coming. Don’t trust anyone. Keep your head down and stick with us. Sam says you’re cool, you’re cool and coming with us. Nicole, too.” He gave Sam a smirk. ”One down, one to go. And you’re doing good, handsome. Real good.”

He knew Dean was watching him closely, noticing everything. He clenched his fist, holding the power in. “For you,” he answered, trying to match Dean’s smile.

Andy smiled. “Some jerk brought the building down, but I knew I could count on you.”

Pressing his lips together, Sam gave a nod. This wasn’t the time to admit his guilt. 

“Andy! Sam!”

Sam spun around at the sound of Nicole’s voice. “I’ll get her,” he said, walking quickly towards the crumpled corner wall. Just as she came into sight, he saw her lift her arm toward him, her head jerking back.  
His self-preservation instincts kicked in, his own hand going up, lashing his power at her just as a lightning bolt singed his hair. She fell backwards onto her back, her body broken and bowed over the rubble. 

Dodging wouldn’t have saved Sam, so Dean was glad the guy had used his powers. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, the shadows on the side of the road seemed to split off. Blinking, he saw a tall, muscular man slipped out of the shadows and up behind Sam. 

He saw the stranger’s body tense and shift. Time froze for Dean.  
He’d seen body language like that before. “Sa--” He started to call out an urgent warning.

Before Sam could turn, something burning hot sank into his back, under his shoulder blade. A choked sound left him, a scream dying in his throat.

The man just stabbed Sam in the back. “Saaaammm!” Dean shouted as the slow motion of hyperawareness faded and time began to move again. The guy with the dagger was running. Dean was running, too. Straight for Sam. He circled around and pulled Sam into his arms. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. It’s not bad,” Dean said, feeling the blood spill over his hand from the wound in Sam’s back as he found himself supporting Sam’s weight. 

They both collapsed to their knees, Dean clutching his lover to him. “Sammm!” he screamed, his voice filled with agony and fury. 

Sam’s knees slammed onto the cement, his body falling forward against Dean. He heard Dean’s shout, like it was coming through some distant tunnel. He put his chin down on Dean’s shoulder, his hands clutching at Dean’s shirt. Wet, sticky blood spread across his back and stomach. He was gone, and he knew it. 

“It’s okay,” Sam whispered. “Better this w…”

“No. No. God dammit, no!” Dean seethed. He wouldn’t lose Sam. Not now. Tears streaked his face as he denied Sam was dying in his arms. He was helpless. Utterly helpless…

No, you’re not.

It was a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time, and the knowledge poured into him. He closed his eyes and let everything fall away until he _was_ Sam. His fingers dug into Sam’s wound. Everything was still fresh. Sam’s body didn’t yet realize and process the damage that was done. It wanted to be whole. That’s what it remembered. And so it was easy to shift his fingers into flesh, to mend what was sundered. He slowly pulled his hand back out, leaving bits of himself inside of Sam, patching the worst of the injuries.

And then he was Dean again. His own cells in Sam’s body… he had no idea if they would simply die and be absorbed by Sam’s body, dying before Sam’s body had healed, or if they would live on, accepted and integrated into Sam’s flesh.

“Sam?” he barely whispered the name, praying he’d fixed Sam enough to keep him alive until they could get to a hospital.

When the pain had doubled, and it felt like a new knife cutting through him, Sam’s last thoughts had been it was a mercy killing. A part of him balked, because he’d wanted to see Dean’s face one last time, but he didn’t fight it. He trusted Dean to call it.

He’d stopped breathing. It had gone black. But suddenly he was gulping in the cool, damp air, filling his lungs with it, and gripping Dean tighter. “Dean, “he managed weakly.

The air rushed out of Dean and he held Sam tightly. “Told you. You’re gonna be fine. Can you stand?”

“Dean. What happened?” Sam asked, struggling to get up. “Not safe here, go.” 

“You took a nasty hit. It’s okay, now. You’re okay. And Nicole was trying to protect you, not attack you.” He helped Sam get to his feet and saw Nicole was stirring and Andy was limping towards them. 

“Andy, take Sam. I’m going to get Nicole up and get you three moving towards the forest.” He pointed. “When you reach my car, you get the hell out of here. I’ll catch up when I can, but I want to do some recon and intel gathering. If you run into anyone, any hunters that get here, use your abilities, make them see you as dead bodies that they’ve salted and burned. Clear?”

Andy was significantly shorter than Sam, but he nodded and moved to Sam’s side, helping to steady him.

“Sam,” Dean said, brushing his lips over his lover’s. “Your phone is in the car. Once you get medical help, text me. I’ll text you as soon as I can and I promise, I won’t do anything stupid. I’m just going to hide out and watch.”

“No, Dean…” Sam stretched his arm out but Dean was already walking away. Sam tried to take a step toward him and saw that he was dragging Andy down. Power surged through him, a mental image shaping in his head, of knocking Dean down to prevent him from walking into more danger.

Then he saw Nicole, with Dean telling her something before he continued on. Remembering what he’d done to Nicole, he clenched his fist. “Let’s get into the forest,” he said, walking slowly, grimacing against the pain, but determined not to hold Andy or Nicole back.

Nicole caught up and took Sam’s other side. “Shut up. You don’t have to say anything. Just get better so I can kick your ass,” she said.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Sam turned to look for Dean. 

“He’ll meet us at the car. Come on big guy,” Andy said, forcing Sam to move. 

* * * 

Sam had been feverish and in pain for about twenty-four hours. But after that, his wound closed up completely, leaving only a fading red mark. He was able to walk and stand, and was almost normal except for the fact that he’d get exhausted very quickly.

He’d told Andy and Nicole that he didn’t need any babysitters, so they’d left for a round-the-world cruise. They all knew anywhere but here was safer for them, away from hunters. Andy could get whatever he wanted, using his powers, though Sam did tell both of them not to use. Even as the words left him, he knew it was easier said than done.

Two days had gone by since the showdown. He’d been getting regular texts from Dean, assuring him he was fine. If he wasn’t back by tomorrow though, Sam decided he was going to go after Dean.

Laying on the bed, he watched the news from under his lashes. His hand was on his phone, so that the vibration would alert him to a call. He was afraid of falling asleep and missing Dean’s texts or a call. 

*

Dean opened the motel door. “Don’t shoot. It’s me,” he called out quietly. He didn’t think Sam was asleep, but if he was, he also didn’t want to wake him up. “Safe to come in?” he asked, carefully poking his head in, ready to jerk back if Sam had an itchy trigger finger or didn’t believe him.

Sam sat up, letting go of the gun under the pillow. “Dean.” He watched as the door opened the rest of the way. Getting out of bed, he headed straight for Dean, searching his face and body for signs of injury. Finding none, he closed his arms around him. “Dean,” he repeated, kissing him lightly, but holding on tight.

“I’m fine,” Dean promised him, his hand going to Sam’s back and running his fingers over the healed wound. If he hadn’t been half-crazy over Sam dying in his arms, he didn’t think he’d have tried that last desperate act of a shifter. If Sam hadn’t basically been in his arms immediately after it happened, he was pretty certain it wouldn’t have worked. And he held Sam a little tighter at that thought.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Dean said softly, moving into the room enough that he could close the door with his foot. “I wasn’t really sure it would work, or if it would make you sick or hell, or it could’ve killed you,” he paused and kissed Sam soundly. “Damn, I love you. Are you okay? It feels healed up.” He looked up into Sam’s eyes, his own glittering though no tears had actually slid down his cheeks. Yet.

Sam swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Me, too. I thought I was dead… I knew it was the right thing, but I didn’t want to leave you alone,” he whispered hoarsely. Cupping the back of Dean’s head, Sam kissed him again, with all the love he felt for the man, holding him like he’d never let him go. “You could’a been killed, too,” he whispered. “The way you were all over the place, and calm, and…” Sam took a breath. “You didn’t only save me, Dean. You saved me from killing a lot of others.” 

“If you’d have died, they probably wouldn’t have survived,” Dean admitted, “cause I’d have finished what you started.” He took a breath. “The hunters. If they came, I doubt they were prepared for the scale of the powers exhibited by the kids. I’m almost afraid to call Bobby. Afraid he didn’t survive. Afraid he did and wants you dead. Maybe wants us both dead.” 

Sam put his hand over Dean’s head, holding him close as he listened. He could tell the other hunter was bone tired. “I’m sure Bobby’s fine.” He winced at the thought that Bobby, who meant the world to Dean, might want him dead. “Look, let’s not jump to conclus--”

“Azazel’s dead,” Dean added softly. He laid his head on Sam’s shoulder for a moment, content to just stand there, basking in Sam’s love. 

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Dean? You’re sure?” He tightened his arms around Dean, squeezing his eyes closed. A tear rolled down his cheek. The nightmare, his nightmare, was over. “Did you…?”

“Yeah. With your mom’s gun. The colt. Right between the eyes. Never seen anything like it. Light rippled over the guy like sheets of gold electricity. Then Azazel simply…” Dean gave a slight shrug, “collapsed. I salted and burned the body he’d been possessing. He was planning on opening a gate to hell to let out an army, with the kid who won the showdown, guy who knifed you, leading it. I killed him, too.” 

“Jake.” Sam let out his breath. “Dean, how’d you find the colt,” he asked, tipping his head back to search Dean’s eyes. Right there, he knew just how much danger Dean had put himself in, just for him, and it took his breath away.

Dean guided Sam over to the small table in the room. A whiskey bottle was sitting there, and he poured each of them a drink and settled into the chair. After he downed his drink, he refilled his glass and blew out a breath.

“I’ll give you the abbreviated version. I went after Jake. I… I shifted into a wolf and followed him, tracking him. First night, Azazel showed. Jake threatened to kill Azazel, but Azazel threatened him right back, about his sister and his mom, and something about putting the army on his trail. Once Jake gave in, Azazel told him to get to a place in Wyoming.” Dean took a sip of his whiskey. “So I followed Jake there, too.”

“Yeah?” Sam urged him to go on.

“When I got there, I knocked Jake out, chained him up and drugged him, to keep him out. Then I shifted into Jake, took his place and met with Azazel. Azazel handed me the gun, telling me it was the key to the door to hell. He even pointed out that it was loaded and could kill him.” Dean scoffed. “I played the game. Pointed the gun at him, then started to lower it.” Dean gave a satisfied smile, remembering how Azazel was so sure he’d won, that everything was going perfectly. “Then I raised the gun back up and shot him, shifting back so he knew it was me. That I killed him. Then I finished Jake off. There was no going back for him, I could see and feel it.” 

Sam listened to the entire story, imagining it as Dean spoke. Things could have gone south a thousand ways from Sunday, but they hadn’t. He finally drank the shot of whisky, then half-stood, leaned across the table, grabbed Dean’s shirt, and pulled him halfway across the table. “My boyfriend is totally badass,” he said, kissing him hard, with everything he felt in his heart for the man. 

Dean’s eyes widened for a moment, not quite certain how Sam was going to react, but at Sam’s words he broke into a grin as he kissed Sam back. “The most badass mother-fucking hunter there ever was,” Dean said when they broke for air, remembering the original Dean’s words when Dean died in his arms and he imprinted Dean’s essence on himself, becoming Dean 2.0.

“Glad you agree.” Sam walked around the table, and stood behind Dean, putting his hands on his shoulders and kneading them. “Have you eaten dinner, or do you want me to order pizza?” he asked. He didn’t think Dean would be up for going out, not after what he’d been through.

Dean gave a sigh as Sam rubbed his shoulders. He let his head fall back and looked up at Sam. “I don’t know when I ate last,” he admitted, but the left side of his mouth pulled back in a smirk. “But food isn’t going to sate the appetite I’m interested in feeding right now.” Dean’s eyes burned with heat. “How about you? When did you… _eat_ … last?” 

Sam’s eyes widened a little at the leer. He chuckled, and bent down, his mouth hovering over Dean’s. “Sam versus food, and Sam wins? You sure you didn’t hurt your head?”

“Winchester luck sucks ass. I figure I can celebrate with food or with you before things go to hell. Again. So yeah, you definitely win. For once I have my priorities straight. You good with that?” Dean asked, then not waiting for and answer wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and pulled him down for a proper upside-down kiss. 

“Mhmm,” Sam agreed, sliding his tongue past Dean’s lips and tangling it with Dean’s. They kissed like that for a long moment, before Sam started to pull up and Dean got up off the chair. Sam stepped into Dean’s arms, closing his own arms around Dean, pulling him up hard against his frame. “Missed you,” he whispered against Dean’s ear, then kissed his neck.

“Missed you more,” Dean answered, letting his eyes half-close and sliding his hands down to cup Sam’s ass as he pressed their groins together. He gave a soft groan as his cock thickened in his pants. “Just so you know, I love you. I’m in this for the long haul, no matter what.”

“I know,” Sam whispered, caressing Dean’s back and sides, his pulse kicking up a notch. “And I’m so in love with you, it’s not even funny.” He started shoving Dean’s overshirt off the guy’s shoulder, then helped him tug the tee shirt up over his head. His mouth went dry at the sight of Dean’s bare chest. 

“I’m good with that,” Dean said, grinning at Sam, and grabbing the hem of Sam’s t-shirt and pulled it off. Running his hands over Sam’s chest, he took a long moment to savor the flesh beneath his fingers, brushing over every scar, and breathing in Sam’s scent as his caresses slid along the ridges and dips. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, then looked up into Sam’s eyes. “Inside and out. I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now, because you’re mine.”

The look in Dean’s eyes took Sam’s breath away. He licked his lips. “I used to resent who I was but… I wouldn’t trade places with anyone right now. And I don’t regret the demon blood, because without it, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. 

His hands moved to Dean’s hips. He tugged him closer, brushing his lips over Dean’s as he walked him backwards to the bed. As Dean’s hand moved behind him, sliding over the place he’d been stabbed, Sam arched into him. “It tingles, like a part of you is in me,” he said, then gave a huffed laugh. “You know what I mean.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked up into Sam’s face and realized Sam didn’t really know what happened. “Part of me _is_ in you. When I patched the damage, I had to leave part of me behind as the patch. I can kinda feel it. It’s weird.” He felt the tingle in his own fingers whenever he ran them over the scar. “How romantic is that? A part of me will always be with you. Forever. Hope I didn’t give you my silver allergy.” 

“This _really_ shouldn’t be as big a turn on as it is,” Sam admitted, not really ashamed about it. 

Dean leaned backwards so he fell back onto the bed, dragging Sam down on top of him. “Mmm, better.”

Bouncing on top of Dean, Sam gave a nod. “Much better. You want me to do all the work?” he asked. “You just lay back, I’ll take care of you.” Slanting his mouth over Dean’s, he started kissing him, his palms roving over Dean’s heated skin. 

Staying in the motel room instead of going out to find Dean the moment he could stand on his own had been hard. Now, Sam wasn’t gonna waste a moment with his lover. He kissed Dean until they were both out of breath, gasping when he broke the kiss. He started to work his way down Dean’s neck and chest, torturing his flesh with his lips, and teeth and tongue.

Each brush of Sam’s lips had Dean lifting up a little, breath hissing from him or soft moans spilling from his lips. His moans grew louder as Sam toyed with his nipples and heat crashed into his groin like a tidal wave. His cock was thick and hard in his jeans and every time Sam shifted, he rubbed over Dean’s sensitive flesh. Dean’s fingers combed through Sam’s hair and caressed his shoulders.

Sam was on a mission to love every inch of Dean. He pressed soft kisses against and slid his tongue over Dean’s skin, moving down his chest towards his abs. He was attuned with Dean, noticing every change in his body, every hitch in his breath. As he moved lower, right above Dean’s belt buckle, he swirled his tongue in circles, then sucked on the skin right there, loving how Dean tensed under his mouth. 

Scooting down a little, Sam started to unbuckle Dean’s belt. When he got to the button and zipper, he captured Dean’s gaze, and held it.

Dean ran his calf over Sam’s ass. “Take me out, Baby,” he said, his voice roughened with desire and lust.

“Whatever you want, Dean,” Sam answered, his eyes burning with the heat of his own desire. He unzipped slowly, then curled his fingers around the waistband of Dean’s jeans. He started tugging, one side, then the other, as it slipped down over his hips. 

Seeing Dean’s tented shorts, Sam gave a loud exhale. “Fuck…” Swallowing, he freed Dean’s cock and dipping his head down, he licked his way up from its base to its tip. He glanced at Dean again, then he swirled his tongue over the head of his cock, licking up his precum. He grasped his shaft, running his fist up and down, giving a low groan as it filled out. Licking his lips, he sucked just the crown into his mouth, tonguing Dean’s slit, playing with it.

Dean shuddered as Sam licked his length, and slammed his head back into the bed as Sam’s tongue moved over his crown. “Fuuuck,” he whispered, feeling the wash of his lover’s breath over him. His hips gave a single thrust the first time Sam’s hand pumped him, and his breath came a little faster. Then his crown was encased and Dean’s eyes practically rolled back. “Sammy,” he moaned, rolling his head from side to side, his hips rocking every time his lover put any suction on his tip. 

Sam sucked on Dean a little harder before letting him slide from between his wet lips. He stroked him lazily with the flat of his tongue, constantly gliding it up and around, from the base of Dean’s cock, to its crown. “I’m right here, not going anywhere. Yours, just like you said.” He meant every word, and intended to show Dean all night long, if his lover wasn’t too exhausted. 

When he knew Dean was watching, Sam made exaggerated motions with his tongue, spearing it, curling it around Dean, and his own gaze slid up to meet Dean’s. Then he rubbed his mouth over the flushed crown, felt the sharp nudge when Dean lifted his hips, and this time, Sam slowly took every inch of him inside, relaxing his throat. He started to bob his head up and down, every once in a while pulling off to take a breath while working Dean with his hand. He seamlessly switched back and forth, giving his lover everything he could.

Dean was lost in the throes of pleasure and ecstasy as Sam worked him and worked him. His cock became sensitive beyond imagining and shocks of exquisite agony rippled through him. “F-f-finish me,” Dean begged, not sure he could take much more of the pleasure and pain, his hips bouncing up and down on the bed as he thrust over and over.

The desperation in Dean’s voice was too much to ignore. Wrapping his mouth tighter around Dean’s cock, Sam pushed him harder, his hand twisting at the bottom of Dean’s shaft, and squeezing his balls. He let Dean dictate the rhythm and felt him tense. Curling the fingers of one hand around Dean’s bicep, Sam gripped him tight, signaling him to come.

Sounds spilled from Dean in ever increasing volume as Sam pushed him closer and closer. Two or three times when Sam gave his balls a squeeze he thought that was it but that final needed push wasn’t there. Suddenly, he felt the squeeze on his arm, and every muscle in him seemed to tighten. His balls twisted up close against him and spasmed, pulsing as his cum poured out of him and into Sam’s mouth. Still Sam didn’t stop, milking him dry, dragging it on and on, until Dean finally collapsed, soaked in sweat. “Holy shit…” Dean breathed, dragging in breath after desperate breath. 

“God yes,” Sam panted, dragging in the air he’d been deprived, and crawling up the bed next to Dean. “I was just making sure Andy hadn’t been anywhere around you,” he said, then turned to face Dean, chuckling lightly.

“If I wasn’t worn out from your obvious missing of me, I’d kick your ass for even suggesting I’d look elsewhere. Bitch.” Even as Dean said the words, he was chuckling breathlessly right along with Sam.

“Jerk,” Sam kissed him, then rolled onto his side, tugged Dean’s shorts up and held them in place at his waist and used his feet and legs to peel Dean’s jeans off. Then he put his leg over Dean, with his knees bent, and nuzzled Dean’s neck. “Wake me up if you want anything else, or, you know, surprise me in the morning,” he said, his voice thick with suggestion. 

Dean pulled Sam close. “I just want you here with me in the morning,” he said. “I couldn’t ask for a better way to wake up than to have you in my arms. The rest… it’ll take care of itself.”

* * *

They’d had breakfast pretty early since Dean was starved. He’d even had a donut on the way to the diner. Now they were back and sitting at the table. Sam watched Dean’s fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table as he stared at his cell phone like it was the enemy.

Reaching out, Sam stilled Dean’s hand. “Call. Whatever the answer is, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Dean met Sam’s eyes, fear in his own. He swallowed hard and gave a nod. Sucking in a breath to bolster his courage, he dialed Bobby’s number, counting off the rings, desperately wanting Bobby to pick up, wanting him to be okay, even if the guy hated him now or wanted him to kill Sam.

“Bobby?” he asked hesitantly.

“Dean? Is that you, boy? Speak up.”

“Bobby? Yeah… it’s me. Dean.” He licked his lips. “You... okay?” he asked.

“Course I’m okay. Where in tarnations have you been?” Bobby demanded. “I’ve been worried sick about you. Expected to see you in Cold Oak and you weren’t there, and that boyf… partner of yours wasn’t there.”

“Sam and a few of the good guys snuck out. I was afraid the hunters wouldn’t listen to reason, like with the Summers kid, and I told them to dodge you. I went after the guy who tried to kill Sam. I nailed him and Azazel. Are we still on the most wanted list?” Dean asked as evenly as he could, praying Bobby would be straight with him.

“One or two bad ‘uns don’t make up the hunting community, and you should know that. I got the Gordon thing cleared up. Not everyone liked it, but there are plenty who know what he could be like. As far as those kids who made it out, word is spreading that they weren’t tainted by demon blood. Unless they do something to draw attention, there won’t be any trouble.” There was a pause. “I’m being straight with you, Dean. And as soon as your ‘special friend’ gets a leash on his powers, you bring him on over to meet me.”

“I don’t know if he even has any abilities now that the demon’s dead,” Dean said. Well, he could hope it worked that way anyhow. “If he does… we won’t tell you and we’ll keep it under wraps.” He smiled at Sam and squeezed his hand, relief clear on his face. “He and I, we are going to be partners. Permanent partners. So get used to the idea. We’ll be by soonish. So we aren’t going to have any rogue hunter out to get us, right? That you know of, anyhow.”

“Nah. There’s a new demon in town that’s got everyone in a tizzy. Soon as you two are ready, give me a call and I’ll give you the details.” Bobby cleared his throat. “I’m happy for you. In case I wasn’t clear about that.”

Dean gave Sam a smile. “Thanks Bobby. And as for this new demon? We’ve got the famous mythical colt and there are a few bullets left. Just so you know. We’ll fill you in on the details when we get there in a few weeks.” He ended the call before Bobby could start asking questions Dean didn’t really want to deal with right now. “We’re good, should be safe, and he wants to meet you. Gave us his blessings. So, wanna do some more catching up before we check out?” He leered at Sam as he got to his feet and dragged Sam over to the bed for another round of sex. 

* * *

Dean hadn’t told Sam where they were going, just that he had a promise to keep and he had to go see someone. They stopped off at Sedona and the Grand Canyon on the way, Dean not in any particular hurry. They spent a few days hiking and biking, experiencing the vacation neither of them had really ever had before. In one of the many stores they visited, they found a pair of matching gold rings. Dean found a shaman willing to marry them, and they celebrated their wedding night out under the stars.

They finally reached the Rockies and it was another day before Dean pulled onto the long, winding gravel drive that led to a small cabin. He parked the car and looked at Sam. “We’re here.”

“Okay. You brought me to a romantic cabin to have your way with me?” Sam asked, smiling. “Not like you haven’t been having your way with me in sleeping bags, the car, on a roof,” he chuckled. “I’m down with this.”

Dean gave a half-smile and shook his head. “I told you, I have some unfinished business.” He opened the trunk and searched through a few things until he finally found what he wanted and stuffed a couple items in his pockets. He shut the trunk, took Sam’s hand, then led him up the main path to the cabin. Before reaching the cabin, the path forked off and led to a small lake. The lake was so smooth, it reflected the surrounding landscape like a mirror. Dean led the way to a small clearing set back from the lake, but with a nice view of it. In the clearing was a wooden cross with no name. He tugged Sam forward and stopped at the gravesite. 

Sam stole a glance at his love, but didn’t ask any questions. He could tell this was important to him, and that he needed or wanted Sam at his side. 

Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled out a small pouch and carefully dug out a silver ring, being careful not to actually touch it. “Hey Dean,” he said quietly, laying the silver ring Dean had worn in life on top of the pouch he had laid in his palm to protect himself from the silver. “I don’t know if you’re still around. Sometimes I think you are. I wanted to tell you, I did it. _We_ did it. The yellow-eyed demon is dead and he knows it was you and me that took him out. Not sent back to hell, but killed him dead. Your family is avenged and so are you. So you can rest easy now. I kept my promise. And I’ll keep on keeping it, and keep the Winchester name something to be proud of.”

Sam looked down at the ground, swallowing as his love spoke with his namesake, or whatever. It was complicated. Maybe brother was the best word to use, ‘cause that had been Dean Winchester’s and the shapeshifter’s relationship in life.

Dean glanced over at Sam and smiled at him, then turned his focus back to the grave. “This is Sam. You met him once. He hit on you and you told him to get lost. But he and I, we get along awesome and we’re partners now. Watching each others’ backs. And we’re happy. You gave me this, Dean. You gave me your life when you asked me to become you and… and I just wanted to let you know, it’s a good life now.”

“Ah… yeah, sorry, I was a drunken jerk,” Sam said a little awkwardly. “I ah, I don’t really know what to say. This, it’s a little complicated,” he gave a smile and looked over at _his_ Dean. “But you must have given him all your best parts, and for that, I’m grateful. He did what you’d have done, to Azazel, I mean. He kept his promise. I hope you can rest now.” Running out of words, he took Dean’s hand.

“It’s not complicated,” Dean said. “We’re in love. It’s as simple as that.” He gave Sam a light kiss. “Just one last promise to keep,” Dean said and squeezed Sam’s hand before releasing it.

He set the pouch and ring on the grave, coated it with some salt, then sprayed lighter fluid on it. “I’m not burning Baby, so if you keep yourself attached to her, it’s your own damned fault. I promised you a hunter’s funeral, nothing left, but I kept your ring… to remind me of my promises, and of you. So this is the last of anything to tie you here, if you are still here.” He lit it on fire, adding accelerant to get it hot enough to melt the silver.

He stood beside Sam, his arm around his waist, his head resting against his lover’s as he watched the metal slowly liquify. Now it was his life. Their life. To live as they pleased. And he figured the original Dean would be just fine with that. 

THE END


End file.
